


Sweetest face, gentlest hands

by cunninglingus



Series: Black is the Color [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: And a bit of pregnancy fluff for good measure, Dark!Loki, Dark!Thor, Dubious Consent, Gratuitous Smut, Intersex, Intersex Loki, M/M, Mpreg, Weird Jotun Biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunninglingus/pseuds/cunninglingus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Loki is pregnant, Jotun biology is a bitch, and Thor is in way, way over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dangereuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/gifts).



> oh ho ho what have we here?  
> Part three in the epic saga of how I finally, _finally_ got my printer to work! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll learn a little bit about yourself -
> 
> oh wait.
> 
> it's thorki mpreg. 
> 
> You don't really have to read the other two parts (although I very much think you should!) Just know that Loki's been imprisoned for some time post-Avengers, he's a bit crazysauce, he and Thor have been doing the dirty do, and his magic is bound under a magic-inhibiting torque. This takes place four years after the events in part two (approx. five years post-Avengers)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

In hindsight, Thor can pinpoint the precise moment when everything irrevocably changed. It all started, curiously enough, with a pair of ruined boots. If Thor had known, he probably would have saved them for posterity.

 

…..Then again, maybe not.

 

 It is mid-spring. The sun is warm on Thor’s skin, and the gardens are just beginning to green.  Loki is at his side, which is more than he could have said two years ago. He really shouldn’t complain; if he tries, Thor can almost, _almost_ pretend things are back to the way things once were, and that he won’t have to lock Loki back in his tower at the end of the day.

 

As they walk, Loki reads the inscription on the back cover of his book, utterly rapt. He follows Thor’s lead using his peripheral vision, so Thor is careful not to steer him into the nearby pond (as funny as that would be.)

 

“What’d you pick?” Thor asks, if only to make conversation. He peeks over Loki’s shoulder. The book is in a Midgardian language beyond Thor’s comprehension.

 

“It’s about magic,” Loki says vaguely. “But they call it science.”

 

“Oh.” Thor says. He thinks briefly of Jane, his friend from long ago, and wonders if she had knowledge of the _science_ in Loki’s book. Thor should really make more of an effort to learn about his protectorate.

 

“You should teach me about it later.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Loki says, not looking up. “Not worth your time.”

 

“Oh.” Thor says again. Loki is evidently not in a speaking mood, so Thor does not press.

 

They make their way to the training grounds, and Thor waves down his friends as soon as they are in sight.

 

“Good day, Thor, Loki!”  Volstagg says upon their approach. He gives Thor a boisterous clap on the back in greeting, but muffles his natural exuberance when he addresses Loki. “I hope this afternoon fares you well.”

 

“And to you,” Loki answers, clipped.

 

It’s like this every time. They try to be kind to Loki, if only for Thor’s sake, but even Thor can tell it is forced. Loki must find such trite pleasantries insufferable.

 

“What have you got there today?” Volstagg motions to the book under Loki’s arm. It’s a half-hearted attempt at showing an interest, and Loki must find it terribly condescending. Thor winces preemtively.

 

Loki narrows his eyes. “A book. As in, for reading. What, have you never seen one before?”

 

Thor immediately intervenes and turns to his friends.

 

“Why don’t you set up the ring? I will join you in a moment.”

 

They shoot him _I-told-you-so_ glances, and Thor sighs, tugging at Loki’s arm before he does any more damage. Loki follows obediently.

 

“Loki,” he chides.

 

“What?”

 

“He was just trying to be friendly.”

 

“They are not my _friends.”_

 

“What, because you have so many you have no need for any more?” Thor teases gently. “I wish you’d make more of an effort.”

 

Loki scoffs at this, and Thor says nothing more. It’s a conversation they’ve already had.

 

Thor sits Loki down at his usual spot under the oak tree adjacent to the sparring ring. Thor doesn’t need to tell Loki to stay put; they’ve done this enough that Loki knows not to wander away. Moreover, Loki doesn’t seem to like going anywhere without Thor present to act as a buffer. At first, Thor thought to bring Loki some furniture to make him more comfortable, but after being cooped up for so long in his stone cell, Loki seems to prefer feeling the grass and the earth directly underneath him.

 

“You look a little grey, are you well?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Thor frowns and presses his hand to Loki’s forehead, fully expecting Loki to pull away, but Loki doesn’t. Loki is very warm, but Thor knows he has his ice-egg in his pocket in case he gets overheated.

 

“Are you sure? Shall I take you back?”

“No!” Loki snaps. “Just send for some water.”

 

Thor does, calling after a servant, who pours Loki a tall glass of ice water. Loki sips it gingerly and settles on the grass. Thor resists the urge to kiss him on the forehead.

 

“Alright. I will fetch you after training and we will have iced-cream desserts. Would you like that?”

 

Loki is already nose deep in his book, and probably not really listening. He’s in a particularly sour mood today and Thor tries not to take it personally. There is no rhyme or reason to Loki’s little snits. 

 

Loki flicks his hand dismissively in Thor’s direction. “Yes, fine.”

 

“Alright.”  Thor repeats. After he’s sure he’s not going to wring any other words from Loki, he jogs over to the ring.

 

“What’s up his arse today?” Volstagg asks as soon as Thor is earshot.

 

Thor sighs. “I don’t know. He’s been sullen of late.”

 

“So he’s the same as always.” Sif adds dryly.

 

“No, I think there is something troubling him,” Thor says, quick to defend his brother, “but he won’t talk to me about it. He’s so prickly.”

 

“Time of the month?” Volstagg supplies helpfully, earning him an elbow to the gut from Sif.

 

Thor can’t help but chuckle a bit, then briefly considers this as a possibility. In truth, he’s not sure if Loki’s body has cycles like an woman’s does. Thor has known Loki intimately for some time, and it’s never come up. Loki would claw his face off if he ever asked, so Thor might as well just forget about it.

 

“Ah, who knows,” Thor says. “Never mind. The sunshine would do him good. Now come on. Let’s go!”

 

Thor is quick to lose himself in training. The exercise clears his mind as it wearies his body. Thor had recently taken up training with a sword - not that he’d ever really use anything other than his hammer in battle - but there is something to be said for putting time and effort into learning a new skill. Swordplay is about finesse, speed, agility. These are skills Thor could make use of even when he’s wielding his beloved Mjolnir.

 

He laughs as Volstagg theatrically flops to the ground in mock-anguish as he’s struck by Hogun. It makes for quite a scene with all that bulk flopping madly about. Even Sif cracks a smile, but it’s accompanied, as ever, by a roll of her eyes.

 

Fandral nudges him gently in the ribs to get his attention, then nods in Loki’s direction.

 

“You think he’s alright?”

 

Loki is lying flat on his back, his arm flung over his eyes to block out the light. He could be sleeping, but Thor doubts Loki would let his guard down in public like that. Thor frowns.

 

“Wait here.”

 

Thor breaks into a light jog. Loki doesn’t rouse even when Thor approaches.

 

“Loki, are you alright?” He asks, crouching down next to his brother and resting his hand gently on his shoulder.

 

“Yes.” Loki says, unmoving. Then after a pause: “No.”

 

“What’s wrong?” 

 

“I….” Loki swallows dryly. “I think I want you to take me up now.”

 

“Alright.” Thor reaches to help Loki rise. Loki is shaky, and wobbles as Thor sets him on his feet. Up close, Loki looks pale and feverish, and Thor is alarmed.  “Do you want me to get a healer?” 

 

Loki wavers for a bit, then promptly curls and throws up all over Thor’s boots.

 

“Ugh!” Thor recoils, but not far enough that he lose his grip on Loki. He thinks he hears Volstagg’s boisterous laugh from across the training yard.

 

After retching a few more times, Loki rights himself and wipes at his mouth, barest hint of a tired smirk on his lips. “No, I feel much better now.”

 

 Thor wipes the brunt of the mess on the grass. He does not envy the servant who will have to polish his boots - if they can be salvaged at all. Loki probably waited until Thor was in range to vomit on him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Loki adds, but the tone indicates he clearly isn’t. Under normal circumstances, Thor would be angry, but in truth, a part of him welcomes Loki’s teasing. It reminds him that the old Loki hasn’t been completely snuffed out.

 

Still, Thor _liked_ these boots.

 

“Of course you are,” Thor grumbles. “Let’s go then.”

 

***

 

At first, Thor thinks nothing of it. Loki had perhaps eaten something that disagreed with him, or maybe he caught a stomach sickness. He seems to recover quickly enough, and Thor’s worry is assuaged.

 

This lasts for about a week, until Thor goes to dine with Loki one evening.

 

“No, I don’t want _that,”_ Loki hisses.

 

“What?”

 

“The fish!” Loki says, covering his nose with the collar of his shirt. “It smells too….. _fishy.”_

 

Thor looks down. Poached tilapia has never been Loki’s favourite, but it’s never elicited this kind of reaction from him. It doesn’t smell any different to Thor, so it can’t be rancid.

 

“You’re being dramatic. You don’t have to eat it. Here, I brought you the potatoes you like. Just sit down.”

 

“No!” Loki insists. “Get rid of it!”

 

Thor huffs. “I’m not in the mood for theatrics tonight, Loki. I wasn’t going to share it with you anyways, I assure you. Now would you please - ”

 

Loki retches and he cups his hands over his mouth.

 

“Alright! I’ll send it away!” Thor exclaims, but it is of little use, because Loki throws up anyway, and he seems less amused by it this time. Thor rushes to him and pats his back until he’s done.

 

“Fuck,” Loki mutters.

 

“I’m going to get a healer,” Thor says, but Loki shakes his head.

 

“It’s just a bug.”

 

“But what about last week? I hardly think -”

 

“Honestly, Thor, this mother-hen act of yours is getting a bit old.” Loki bats him away. “I’m fine, so stop your incessant fussing.”

 

Loki wrinkles his nose at the mess, and Thor obligingly calls a servant to deal with it. Thor can’t bring himself to eat with Loki’s vomit laying in a puddle in the corner, and their food is cold by the time Thor can muster his appetite again.

 

 - That is, until Loki uncovers the pea soup and makes an exaggerated, fake gagging noise just to annoy him.

 

Thor sets down his fork and knife with a grimace, and Loki grins.

 

“Did they salvage your boots?”

 

“No,” Thor answers flatly. “You ruined them very thoroughly.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds under his breath, “You always did have impeccable aim.”

 

At this, Loki laughs, and Thor can’t seem to bring himself to anger.

 

***

 

Thor’s good mood lasts about as long as he’s in Loki’s company. At first, Thor keeps his distance, not wanting to catch whatever Loki has, but Loki recuperates quickly enough and practically pounces on him not long after they’ve finished eating. Thor must be crazy, because even Loki’s sick isn’t enough to dissuade his eager manhood. Thor goes down on him, if only to feel Loki squirm and writhe on his lips and weave his fingers demandingly in Thor’s hair. Loki offers to reciprocate with a wry grin, but Thor isn’t particularly keen to have Loki vomit up his supper on his cock, so he politely declines. Instead, Thor sates himself in Loki’s quim, with Loki’s long, smooth legs wrapped around his hips. After he finishes, Thor moves to pull out, but Loki’s legs only tighten, locking them together. Thor waits a few moments then tries again, and still Loki clings to him. So, Thor kisses whatever skin is exposed to him, and patiently waits it out.

 

At length, Loki loosens enough to let Thor’s soft cock slide out, and Thor settles himself at Loki’s side. This would usually be the point where Thor would scoop Loki up for a post-coital snuggle, but for whatever reason, tonight, Loki’s beat him to the punch. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Loki nestles himself into the crook of Thor’s arm, sighing dreamily as he does so. At first, Thor thinks Loki is making fun of him - Thor wouldn’t put it past him - but he desperately wants to believe that it is earnest, so Thor chooses to let down his guard and soak up Loki’s affection. Thor isn’t sure what has brought on this sudden burst of cuddliness, but he isn’t about to question it. 

 

It is easy to lose track of time with Loki peaceful in his arms, the only sound a soft, rumbling, purr-like noise that Thor’s never heard Loki make before. Thor holds him like he cannot believe his fortune. Really, he can’t - he racks his brain to come up with an explanation for this change in behaviour. Was it something he said or did? Alas, nothing stands out. Loki is, as ever, unsolvable. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

 

So the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. As much as it pains him to do so, Thor knows he must go back to his own room, his own bed. He waits until he thinks Loki has fallen asleep and carefully peels himself away, hoping not to disturb his brother. In this, Thor is unsuccessful.

 

“Where are you going?” Loki croaks as he sits up. His hair is poofing out at odd angles and Thor wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed with him and kiss him everywhere.

 

Loki blinks a few times, as if he’d just mentally answered his own question.

 

“Oh,” he says, then the softness drains from his face, and he flops back down on the bed with his back to Thor. “Whatever.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor offers, and leans down to give Loki a parting kiss. When Loki does not rise to meet him, he kisses his shoulder instead. Whatever moment they’ve just shared has passed; Loki’s wall is back up.

 

Thor sighs.

 

Tiredly, Thor makes his way back to the royal bedchambers and eases himself into bed with an exaggerated oomph. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Groa hesitantly standing in the doorway of their private bathing chamber, chewing on her lower lip. Thor knows what she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth.

 

“The healers say I’m ready,” she says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

Thor groans inwardly and scrubs a hand over his face.

 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to harm you -”

 

“It’s been three months,” Groa says. “I am much better. We can try.”

 

“I’m tired,” Thor says gently. He _had_ just finished screwing Loki into the mattress. That, and he’s not in the mood to try getting Groa pregnant again. He doesn’t know if he can handle any more disappointment. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

 

“You’re always tired,” she mopes, and Thor knows he’s hurt her feelings. “Here, let me -”

 

She reaches for the laces on Thor’s pants and experimentally cups Thor’s cock. Thor’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She’s never been this forward, and Thor, despite himself, rather appreciates it. He growls softly in his chest and lets her stroke him clumsily. He’d scandalize her forever if he asked her to put it in her mouth, so he doesn’t bother asking. It’s not conducive to _baby-making,_ anyway. Loki’s juices are probably still all over his cock, and Thor wonders idly if she’d taste it. Thor feels a sudden pang of guilt for his infidelity, but then again, Thor has a high libido and more stamina than he knows what to do with. He needs to expend his excess energy _somewhere._ Groa knows this, surely; Thor doubts she’d even _want_ to bear the brunt of his sexual attentions.  

 

Groa is bright pink with embarrassment - still shy even after four years of marriage -  but there is a hard glint of determination in her eyes too. Thor feels bad for her. She may have let him down in her one duty as his wife, but Thor still thinks upon her fondly, and wishes she could find happiness with a husband who truly cared for her.

 

He just wishes that husband wasn’t him.

 

Thor grunts, and his manhood begins to fill.  He is exhausted, but his cock never misses an opportunity, it seems.

 

“There, husband,” she coos, satisfied, then lays back. “Make love to me.”

 

Feeling lazy, Thor would prefer it if she’d ride him, but again, he knows better than to ask. So he rolls on top of her and does his husbandly duty, if only to keep her from reporting him to his mother. She feels so _different_ from Loki - all soft and supple, tits bouncing as he thrusts in her. It could be pleasurable, Thor thinks, if she’d only _move_ a bit and not lie there like a dead flounder. As always, she remains limp, waiting patiently for Thor to plant his seed and be done with it. She winces less now than she did when they were first married, having somewhat gotten used to the size of Thor’s prick, but Thor doesn’t even try to pleasure her in return. She seems intent on bearing this as one would any unpleasant chore; a means to an end. And why should Thor bother if that is her attitude?

 

So unlike Loki.

 

Thor’s thoughts drift to the thought of fucking Loki’s cunt from behind, forcing his hips up so that he displays his pink little arsehole for Thor’s greedy fingers. Loki has long since given up trying to pretend he doesn’t like it when Thor touches him there. Loki climaxes no matter the method in which he’s fucked - wanton, dirty thing that he is. All he needs is a little _stimulation_ and Thor’s efforts are repaid tenfold.

 

Thor groans and spills, panting heavily, then rolls off his wife. Orgasm makes him dopey, and he’s close to sleep within minutes. He wishes he could spend the night in Loki’s embrace instead, but he can’t think of a way to make that happen without rousing his family’s suspicion.

 

“Are you angry with me?” Groa says in the darkness, and there is a tremor in her voice that wasn’t there before. Then she breaks out into full sobs.

 

Thor groans. He just wants to _sleep!_

 

“No, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, reaching over to caress her back. “Of course not.”

 

Thor gathers her in his arms and lets his embrace speak where his words fail. Little by little her sniffles abide and her quivering shoulders still. He spoke the truth; he’s not angry with her, but neither is he exactly _pleased._ Nonetheless, Thor does not want to be unkind. There isn’t anything either of them can do about their situation, so he keeps his resentment tucked safely away, deep inside, and refuses to let it overcome him.

 

 Once she is asleep, Thor rolls over. It is only then that he finds rest.

 

***

 

 It is the Cherry Blossom Festival, heralding the coming spring, and Asgards’ gardens are lush and sweet-smelling. That means Thor will be occupied with an endless stream of parties and festivities and consequently will have no time to visit Loki. He’d thought of inviting his brother, but Loki sneered at the suggestion, and Odin forbade it anyway.

 

 

 Loki’s reintegration into court life has been taking place in small, almost negligible increments, and nobody seems to be really relishing the process. Few people know of his betrayal, fewer still of his true parentage. The official story was that Loki had taken ill and needed respite from court. Now they all think him mentally unstable and treat him either like he’s made of glass, or like some kind of invalid. Loki, somewhat understandably, bristles at the treatment, which in turn only fuels the gossip that follows him wherever he goes.

 

As a result, Loki clings to Thor’s side when they are public. He sometimes gets so overwhelmed he actually asks Thor to take him back up to his cell, which ironically enough, has become a sort of safe space. He’s icy even when they visit their mother. Thor suspects Loki feels a greater sense of betrayal on her part than on Odin’s, whom Loki never really got along with. And Thor certainly won’t be making the mistake of inviting Loki to lunch with him and Groa again any time soon.

 

(Not one of Thor’s better ideas.)

 

Still, Loki is proud; he holds his nose high and haughty even as people whisper behind his back, spreading vicious rumors about where he’s been and what he’s been doing for all this time. Thor admires Loki’s pluck, but he knows it to be nothing but a finely crafted illusion. Loki’s not as indifferent as he looks, not by a longshot. Thor sees the way Loki seems to shrink when he thinks nobody is watching. Thor cannot fathom what it must be like for him. It’d be near impossible _not_ to feel defeated when everyone insists on treating you like a misfit.

 

Loki takes his hurt out on Thor like an emotional punching bag. Thor tries to be understanding, he does, but it gets so _frustrating_ at times, and Thor’s patience has its limits. Inevitably, Loki pushes him too far and Thor snaps. He loses his temper, then Loki loses his, and then they have a huge fight, then three days later it’s Thor who finds himself apologizing at Loki’s threshold. Thor feels bad for him, and Thor feels bad for himself. All Thor wants is for his family to be _normal -_ that they would get along well enough to sit together without someone storming off in a fit or breaking out into tears.

 

Thor shakes himself back to the present. It’s too nice a day to dwell on such things. Thor distracts himself with a generous slice of cake and an equally generous helping of strawberry wine.

 

Today is the garden party, and the blossoms are in full bloom. Ladies are playing croquet on the freshly cut grass and tossing balls to their toy dogs, while the gentlemen of the court sit under awnings, smoke fine tobacco, and talk politics or literature. It’s all horribly, horribly boring. Even Volstagg is on his best behavior, happily gorging on sweetmeats with one of his nieces perched delicately on his ample lap. Fandral is regaling a gaggle of pretty young ladies (and one pretty young boy) with tales of his latest exploits and positively preening under their attention. Sif is talking to some young man who must be trying to court her. In his heart, Thor wishes the poor fool luck, but having designated himself Sif’s Honorary Brother, it is his most solemn duty (nay, pleasure) to mess with her suitors as much as possible. From across the lawn, Thor raises his glass in acknowledgement. Then, upon catching his eye, Thor makes the throat-slitting gesture with his finger. The young man goes white, and Sif laughs, despite herself.

 

“I could take care of that very well myself, thank you,” she calls, then tugs him away from Thor’s scrutinizing eyes before he passes out.

 

Thor smiles and sips at his own drink. He watches as a toddler chases after one of the puppies and is scooped up by his mother, one of his Frigga’s ladies. Other children fly brightly colored kites, or sail tiny toy boats in the petal-strewn lake. Everyone is having a good time, it seems. Everyone but him.

 

Groa is beautiful underneath the white canopy of flowers, having been crowned Queen of Spring with a wreath of blossoms. She beams fondly at her favourite lady-in-waiting as they talk, hushed, about whatever secret things that fill ladies’ time and thoughts. Thor doesn’t often see her happy these days, and he’s glad to see she’s recovered somewhat. It helps to keep up appearances, so Thor smiles at her when she looks his way. She returns his attention with a shy smile of her own. It is springtime; the world is fertile. Thor hopes that their efforts too will soon bear fruit.

 

“My son, you are far away,” Frigga says teasingly as she sidles up next to him. She follows his line of sight towards Groa. “She looks well.”

 

“Aye,” Thor agrees, then takes a sip of wine.

 

“We were worried for her,” Frigga says. “She had not made an appearance at court for some time.”

 

No, Thor thinks. Why would she, after suffering yet another public humiliation? Thor does not blame her for wanting to hide herself away.

 

“Next time, don’t announce it,” Thor says, hushed. “Not until we’re sure….if it happens again, it will crush her.”

 

Frigga smiles sadly in understanding.

 

“You mustn't lose hope,” she says. Her eyes gleam. “It will happen, in time.”

 

Thor nods once, but he’s not so sure anymore.

 

“You’ve been….attentive?”

 

“ _Mother,”_ Thor groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

Frigga laughs, clasping her arm around his. “Oh, child. Let us make a round, shall we?”

 

They walk, arm and arm, admiring the gardens, scenting the perfumed air, stopping to make small talk with this courtier than that. Thor isn’t as comfortable with this as his mother is. Frigga knows every single member of the court and navigates the social landscape with an unharried, natural ease. She makes light conversation seem so effortless, while Thor feels clunky and superfluous. Thor is charming when he wants to be, but only in a vain, superficial way. In truth, he often finds it difficult to take a personal interest in his courtiers and officials when speaking to them one-on-one. Thor likes for people lavish him with adulation, but cares little for them in return. He is the Crown Prince, after all, and is used to being the centre of attention. It’s because court life is so artificial, Thor thinks. Everyone wants something from him, and nobody ever says what they mean. There are so few people who Thor feels truly comfortable with.

 

Even his relationship with Odin is strained. When he’s in his father’s presence, he’s on constant guard, knowing full well that Odin is judging his every gesture, every word. Not maliciously, of course; Thor understands that Odin will only bequeath his kingdom to him once he deems him worthy, and Thor is eager to rise up and meet - _exceed_ \- his exacting expectations. Still, it doesn’t make for a very warm father-son relationship.  Odin is watching even now, so Thor smiles like he’s supposed to and asks after so-and-so’s grandchildren and so-and-so’s upcoming marriage, even though it taxes him to do so.

 

When he and Frigga are finally alone. Thor’s facade drops altogether. He’s sleepy after all the wine and sugary dessert, and wishes for nothing more than to trudge up to his chambers for a well-deserved nap.

 

“I have seen it,” Frigga says out of nowhere, and Thor immediately perks up.

 

“What?” Then, more excitedly, “You have?”

 

She smiles, and her eyes twinkle. “It was a hazy vision, but I saw it. I saw _you._ ”

 

Thor gulps. “And…?”

 

“And an infant in your arms.”

 

“You’re certain?”

 

“Nothing is ever certain,” Frigga says sagely. “But it is a good sign, and one I had not been blessed with until now.”

 

Thor grins brightly, and his hope is kindled anew. His mother is among the best soothsayers in all the realms; if indeed she has seen it, than the odds are in his favour. In a burst of sudden joy, he envelops her in his arms.

 

“Oh, my son,” she laughs, and pats his back.

 

That night, Thor makes love to his wife. Her hair still smells of cherry blossoms.

 

 

***

 

If there is one thing Thor should have learned by now, it’s that when one thing in life is going well, something else seems to go horribly awry. It is the unfortunate constant of his existence. One would think he’d be used to it.

 

Thor goes to visit Loki the following day, still in high spirits. Not even Loki’s foulest temper could dull his good cheer. Loki could vomit all over him for all Thor cares.

 

Having missed the festival, Thor decides to bring a bouquet of blossoms to grace Loki’s room and fill it with sweet perfume. He braces himself for a barrage of scorn and mockery but is pleasantly surprised when Loki accepts the flowers without a fuss.

 

“Are you trying to court me, Thor?” He mutters, yet still sniffs them appreciatively. “How was it?”

 

Thor exhales and flops into Loki’s armchair. “Boring. But not bad.”

 

“Get used to it,” Loki says as he arranges the flowers in a vase. “Because once you’re king, happy hammer smash-smash time is over.” He raises a single eyebrow at Thor. “What’s the matter with you?”

 

“What?”

 

“You have this dopey look on your face,” Loki says,

 

Thor grins lazily. “You always say that. Maybe my face is naturally arranged like this.”

 

“Then woe be to you, and woe be to your get.” Loki turns back to his flowers and finishes his arrangement. Thor secretly loves watching Loki do delicate things like flower arranging or embroidery. It reminds him that there is still some gentleness to Loki, that he’s not all hard angles and battery acid. For his name-day last year, Loki had sent Thor an embroidered shirt with the express command that he never mention it to anyone, or ever again.

 

 _“Or I will geld you while you sleep,”_ Loki had said. Thor, being rather fond of his member, readily agreed to this stipulation.

 

“That looks nice,” Thor says, referring less to the flowers and more to the way Loki’s robs fit him so snugly around his waist.

 

Loki stands back and admires his work, cocking his head to one side. It must please him, because all he says is, “I think I need a bigger vase. With gold trim. And enamel.”

 

Thor chuckles, rising to embrace his brother. “Then you shall have it.” 

 

Loki is soft and pliable in Thor’s arms and meets his kiss without any prompting. Everything is going so well, and Thor is in such high spirits, that he certainly isn’t expecting the slap to the face he receives when Loki abruptly pulls away.

 

“Do you not bathe?” Loki snarls.

 

Thor blinks the white out of his eyes and rubs his stinging cheek.  
  
“What was that for?”

“I can smell her all over you,” Loki says. “You reek of it!”

 

“What?” Thor not so subtly sniffs himself, smelling nothing out of the ordinary. It takes him a moment to figure out what Loki’s even talking about.

 

“Admit it, you fucked her before you came here!”

 

“I…..well yes,” Thor stutters, “but I hardly think - “

 

Another slap.

 

“Could you stop that?” Thor says, losing patience now. “You’ve always known I lay with my wife.”

 

“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d come straight from her bed to mine! Have you no shame?”

 

“I didn’t “come straight from her bed to yours _”,_ I laid with her last night, as is my duty. What is your problem?”

 

“Ugh, you dog,” Loki grabs him. Thor prepares for another slap, but instead Loki starts -

 

_Rubbing himself up against him._

 

Thor freezes, bewildered.

 

“Loki,” he says slowly, “What are you -”

 

“Just shut up,” Loki snaps, nuzzling the length of his body up against Thor’s. It doesn’t feel like their normal frantic groping prior to sex. It’s more akin to the way a cat would press itself up against its owner’s legs. It’s strange, but not unwelcome, although Thor’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands. When he tries to embrace Loki in return, Loki just wriggles away. After a few moments of this, Loki seems to come to, and he makes a very displeased face.

 

“Come on,” he says, pushing Thor backwards on the bed. Thor lands with an oomph and Loki climbs up after him, settling himself astride Thor’s hips.

 

Loki grabs Thor’s chin harshly, but Thor is too stunned to do anything about it.

 

“Don’t you ever - _ever -_ come to me with her stink on you again.” Loki hisses. “Do you understand?”

 

Thor would almost laugh, if he didn’t value his life quite so much. But something in Loki’s eyes makes him look positively feral, and Thor gulps instead.

 

Loki shakes his chin. “Do you understand?”

 

“Yes! Yes! Fine!” Thor exclaims, although he’s not sure why it is an issue _now_ when he’s surely done it before and Loki had never said anything. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to get slapped again.  To his relief, Loki accepts this, and releases him.

 

“Take this off, what is the matter with you?” Loki growls, tugging at Thor’s shirt. “Come on!”

 

“You’re on my hair - ow!” Thor grumbles. “What’s gotten into you?”

 

“Shut up,” Loki says again. “Just shut up for once and fuck me.”

 

Loki rips his robe over his head, the leans down to attack Thor’s mouth and neck with sloppy kisses. He grinds himself down on Thor’s now very interested cock and all Thor’s misgivings quickly become muted. He is hardly one to argue with _that._

 

Thor knows he could easily flip them over and wrangle Loki into submission. Usually, Thor enjoys taking the reins during lovemaking and rutting his bedmates as suits his fancy, and he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like pinning his slippery brother down while they have sex. But he’s fascinated by this, and perhaps a bit morbidly curious, so he bears Loki’s frantic clawing, his fevered bites. his inelegant grinding. Loki’s nails are sharp and lacquered black and when he scratches Thor’s shoulders  and it stings, maybe even drawing blood. This feels like a fight, and a dirty one at that. Thor _likes_ it.

 

“You’re wild,” Thor murmurs, awed, as Loki all but shreds the rest of their clothing and slithers down Thor’s body. Loki makes a show of licking up his hand, then he takes Thor’s cock in his wet fist and begins stroking it. Thor groans approvingly. If this is how Loki is going to react to Groa’s scent, Thor is seriously considering slathering himself in her perfume from now on.

 

Having achieved Thor’s erection, Loki wastes little time in positioning himself over Thor’s cock and sliding it into his wet, waiting cunny.

 

“Oh yes,” He says, throwing his head back as he fully seats himself. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

It’s a statement rather than a question, but Thor cannot answer anyway, because he is rendered breathless by the brutal pace Loki immediately sets. Loki rides him like it’s a punishment, rattling the bed with his frenzied motions. He moans, growls, flips his hair, and Thor can do little else but just lie there and take it. While Thor always manages to bring Loki to the highest throes, he isn’t usually like this until he’s about to orgasm.

 

The sheer sight of Loki writhing on his cock like an animal in heat is enough to bring Thor to the brink of climax, but he holds off, if only to let this go on a little longer. He grips Loki’s hips in encouragement, but as soon as he begins to unconsciously try to steer Loki’s movements, Loki snarls and claws at him and rides him harder.

 

Thor’s orgasm takes him by surprise; it might be the way Loki swivels his hips, or how he swipes his hair off his damp forehead, or the sinful looks he’s shooting him as they fuck - possibly a combination of all three. Thor groans aloud as he comes inside Loki, the pain of the scratch marks on his chest and shoulders only heightening his pleasure.

 

Lokis face is triumphant, and he grins crazily, fisting his cock once, twice, and comes on Thor’s stomach. Panting, Loki runs his fingers through the come on Thor’s stomach, up over Thor's chest and neck. Thor could swear he’s…. _spreading it around._

 

At last, Loki pulls off of Thor and flops down beside him. He’s calm now, but from the look on his face, Loki seems as perplexed as Thor is.

 

Thor clears his throat. He feels sticky.

 

“Don’t you dare say anything.” Loki snaps.

 

“I wasn’t going to.” Thor lies.

 

They lay there for a few moments, Loki clearly growing more and more perturbed. He sits up.

 

“Clean yourself off, you’re making me nauseous,” Loki says, tossing him a damp washcloth from a bowl on his nightstand.

 

Thor knows better than to argue, and obediently mops off his chest. Loki twitches at his side and wrinkles his nose. Then he lays back and crosses his arms over his chest in a huff, in a manner that Thor could only describe as _adorable_.

 

Thor grins, still dopey from climax.

 

 “There. _That face._ Could you stop? Or do you _want_ me to be sick on you? ”

 

Thor stifles the urge to laugh and apologizes in his most serious and formal tone. Loki sees through it, clearly, but succumbs to Thor’s embrace anyway. Thor has no idea how he’s going to hide his lovebites and scratch marks from his wife. He’ll have to find some monster that needs slaying just to get away from court and give him time to heal. Or maybe he’ll just blame them on a monster and save himself the trouble.

 

***

 

 

It’s not as though Loki’s behaviour could ever be described as _predictable,_ but over the next few weeks, he seems to become ever more erratic. When Thor goes to visit, he has no idea whether Loki will be glad to see him, or angry at some perceived slight, or hot and eager, or upset, or sick, or some combination thereof. Some days, Thor can’t make it through the door without Loki pouncing him, scratching him and demanding sex, and other times, Loki is frosty and distant. He refuses half the food Thor brings him, then gorges on chocolates and roast chicken. Concerned, Thor tries to describe Loki’s behaviour to his friends (leaving out the parts about their lovemaking), and they stare blankly back at him, unsure of how how to respond. Thor already knows they think he’s crazy, but it’s hard to convey just…. _how_ crazy he’s become.

 

(Relatively speaking, that is.)

 

“You realize you’ve been saying that  for the last five years,” Fandral says.

 

“Yes, but….” Thor frowns. “I mean it this time. Maybe he needs more fresh air, sunshine. We should take him with us next time we hunt. He used to enjoy horseback riding.”

 

They look fleetingly at each other, silent.

 

 “Fine. _I_ will take him riding, since it seems he will get no sympathy from you.”

 

Thor storms off to his chambers. He didn’t mean to bark at them like that, but it is so _frustrating_ to have this friction within his closest circle of friends, even if he knows most of the fault is Loki’s. He’s difficult, Thor grants, and everyone is baffled as to why Thor continues to bother since Thor is the one who complains about him the most. If only they could see that there is still good in him, deep down, past his hard shell of hurt and bitterness. Sometimes Thor catches Loki watching him while he pretends to be asleep. Just before Loki’s face reverts to its natural scowl,  Thor thinks he sees softness, awe, admiration there - all those things Loki used to express unabashedly, before Thor knew to appreciate it. It is not much, but just those brief glimpses are enough to give him hope that Loki _does_ love him, even if he never says so.

 

The thing is, Loki knows Thor, more deeply and more completely than any other. Loki has seen sides of Thor he’d be ashamed to show his closest friends. Loki knows that Thor is selfish and lustful and vainglorious, just as he knows Thor to be loving and forgiving and loyal to a fault. Loki has seen both the worst and the best of Thor, and from him Thor has nothing to hide. There is no artifice in their relationship - on Thor’s part, at least. For better or for worse, Thor can just be himself.

 

It will take some convincing to get permission to take Loki out for a horseback ride. This, Thor knows already. But even if it isn’t granted, there are…...ways of working around it. The things Thor does to see him smile.

 

***

 

Thor comes up one evening just as Loki’s gaoler is backing out the door, tray of untouched food in hand.

 

“Was it not to his liking?” Thor jokes.

 

“No, your majesty,” Oddr says. “He will not eat.”

 

This makes Thor frown. “Is he sick?”

 

“I know not,” Oddr replies gruffly.

 

“You know not?” Thor repeats. “Is that not your charge, to report any worrisome behavior to me?”

 

“Apologies, your majesty.”

 

“Apologies, apologies,” Thor mimics under his breath and brushes past him. Off all Loki’s gaolers,Thor likes this one the least. If only Loki would stop running his gaolers mad; he goes through two or three a year.

 

Thor’s expression softens as soon as he enters the cell.

 

Loki is laying flat on his stomach in bed, arms cradled under his head. He does not turn to face Thor even though he surely recognizes him by his signature lumbering footsteps. Last time Thor came round Loki lifted his skirts and demanded Thor lick him. Honestly. A dice is more predictable.

 

“Loki?” Thor ventures. “How are you feeling?”

 

Thor sits himself on the edge of Loki’s bed and rests his hand on the small of Loki’s back,  rubbing it in small circles. Undeterred by Loki’s lack of response, Thor keeps his tone bright and jovial. “I have some good news. Because you’ve been doing so well, I can take you out for a horseback ride! Course, it is probably best that the Allfather doesn’t find out about it. And your gaoler. And I can’t really take you off palace grounds. But the stablehands won’t question me, and the stablemaster will be away next week. It’s perfect! Just wear a cloak, no one will be any wiser. We can pack lunch - a whole chicken just for you! Heh?  What do you say?”

 

Thor expects some reaction, especially at the ribbing, but Loki simply lies there.

 

“Fine, two chickens. But you must promise to share -”

 

“I think I need a healer.”

 

Thor stops dead at the interruption.

 

“What? Is something wrong?”

 

He leans forward, swiping Loki’s soft hair back from his neck and resting his hand across the nape. Loki doesn’t feel any warmer than usual.

 

“Was it the food? Oddr said you weren’t eating. What do you want? I would have the kitchens prepare whatever you desire.”

 

Loki shakes his head into the pillow. “Just get me a healer. Not my assigned one, he spies on me. Someone else. Someone discreet.”

 

“Loki,” Thor says, hovering protectively over his brother, “Tell me. Is it the nausea? The heat? Was I too rough with you?” Thor swallows. “I didn’t…...tear you, did I?”

 

“I’m _fine,_ Thor, it’s _fine._ ”

 

“Then what? What is it? Do I have reason to be worried?”

 

“Would you cease your blathering?” Loki flips over to shoo him away. “You’re giving me a headache. Just - “ Loki falters at this, and his voice cracks. He takes a breath to steady himself, but even so, when he speaks, it’s hardly above a whisper, “I need a _female_ healer, Thor.”

 

The words hang in the air, unsettled, then Thor is hit hard in the chest.

 

Thor can barely choke out the words. “What?”

 

 Loki’s face is grim, with nary a hint of playful jest.

 

“......You’re sure? You - you said it was impossible!”

 

Loki says wearily, “Does it not fit my symptoms?”

 

“But there’s a chance you might not be,” Thor says quickly, “Surely you’re mistaken. You say it yourself, you don’t know your own body. It could be a sickness, or from stress - ”

 

Loki purses his lips, his silence saying more than words ever could.

 

Thor springs to his feet.

 

“Fuck!”  He roars, kicking over a chair. “You told me you’d take the siliphum!”

 

Loki visibly startles, his eyes wide and bewildered. This was clearly not the reaction he was expecting; Thor is rather surprised at himself, too.

 

 “I did. You know I did. You watched me. Every time.”

 

“Then how did this happen? Were the herbs impotent? Did you tamper with them? On _purpose?”_

 

Loki’s brow furrows, and his mouth drops. “W-what?”

 

Thor paces around the table.  How could this be? How could this _be?_ He was so careful, had taken every precaution! This can’t happen - not now, not when Thor has failed to sire a legitimate child within his marriage.

 

 _“_ I should have known better than to trust you.” Thor says spitefully, because in many ways, Thor is still a childish princeling, and it is easier to blame Loki than to acknowledge his own part in getting them into this situation. Still, he goes on, “You _seduced_ me.”

 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Thor regrets them. They land like a guided missile straight to the fragile bridge of trust Thor’s worked so hard to build over the last five years. Loki’s face is a mix of hurt and betrayal; his eyes  glossy with unshed tears. Thor’s heart twists, and he reaches for Loki imploringly.

 

 “Ahhh, Loki, sweetheart. I did not mean it like that. Forgive me, I spoke too rashly. I am simply - unprepared for such news. Please don’t cry, I - ”

 

Loki’s eyes turn hard and cold even as tears spill, and he wrenches himself violently out of Thor’s grasp, rushing to the small side room that is outfitted as a simple bathing chamber. Loki slams the door in Thor’s face and locks it.

 

“Loki,” Thor pleads, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, come out -”

 

Loki hisses from the other side. “I want you _gone._ ”

 

“Can we talk about it?” Thor asks, then sighs as his question goes unanswered. “Hear me out, at least?”

 

Loki says nothing, and Thor tries to think of what best to say to fill the void. He’s not used to Loki’s silence; the fact that he’s not snapping back is making Thor nervous.

 

“Don’t cry, Loki. We’ll figure it out, alright? Everything will be fine.” Thor says, even though he hardly believes it himself. Thor does not want to make this worse, but he neither does not want to leave Loki alone in such a state. With finality, he says, “I will get you a healer, and after we will have words. Alright?” For good measure, he adds, “I am sorry.”

 

He waits a beat in case Loki says something else. Even through the door, Thor can hear Loki’s voice hitch, but the words are crystal clear:

 

“I _hate_ you.”

 

Thor physically recoils, eyes wide. It hits him so hard he’s practically winded. Thor wants nothing more than to punch down the door, take Loki in his arms and kiss him until he takes it back. But no. He won’t. They both need time to cool.

 

Defeated, Thor takes his leave, the promise to return hot on his lips.

 

He’s antsy the rest of the day and all through Council. His leg jitters restlessly without him even realizing it, and he has to constantly rub excess sweat from his palms on his trousers. He’s too distracted to focus on reports of unrest on Midgard and drought on Nidavellir. Thor can’t bring himself to care.

 

_I hate you._

 

Thor replays it over and over again in his head. 

 

It is storming outside, and Thor knows this is a reflection of his own churning, restless mind. People cast him quick, wary glances, knowing full well that the storm probably his doing, but nobody dares mention it to his face. Even Odin narrows his single eye at him, but thankfully leaves it be.

 

Strange to think that Thor is the God of Storms, when in truth, Thor can do little to control his elemental powers without wielding Mjolnir. He is connected to nature on a wholly instinctive level, and since Thor has no inner magic reserves as Loki does, his powers often manifest without much of his say-so: a direct outwards expression of Thor’s mood and feelings. The court knows it too. Thunder shakes the palace walls and everyone stares at him. Red-faced, Thor excuses himself before he’s asked any invasive questions.

 

He meets Healer Halldora at their assigned place, in a tiny nook far away from prying eyes.

 

Thor wastes no time. “Is he....?”

 

She nods slowly, warily. She too must have noticed the weather. “Six or seven weeks, by my count. It is…..hard to say. I have never treated a Jotunn.”

 

Thor curses and scrubs a hand down his face.

 

“I just need to know that he is well.” Thor pauses, then revises, “Healthy.”

 

“He suffers from morning sickness,” Halldora says, “but that is common, and will probably lessen on its own as his pregnancy progresses. More of a concern, he is anemic. He needs to include more red meat and greens in his diet. That should help with the lightheadedness and fatigue.”

 

Thor winces inwardly,  already dreading the prospect of having to convince Loki to _eat his vegetables._

 

“But most of all, my lord, he is under a great deal of stress. He complains of a sore jaw; I believe he’s grinding his teeth. And he sleeps little.” She glares at Thor accusingly, and Thor wonders, sheepishly, what Loki has told her about them. “It is not good for him, nor for the child.  He needs _support.”_

 

“Was he upset when you saw him?”

 

“It is not my place to say,” Halldora replies, voice low,  “But I don’t think I must remind you of the consequences of pursuing this course of action. Tread lightly, my prince. It is not simply your life, or Loki’s, that hangs in the balance.”

 

Thor nods gravely. “I trust I have your discretion in this matter?”

 

She bows her head in the affirmative. Thor thanks her, then mindlessly heads towards the palace grounds. The storm has settled to a heavy downpour, but Thor bears it no mind. He takes solace in the rain, and lets it wash over his heated skin.

 

Loki is pregnant.

 

 

Stupid, tactless fool! How could he have been so cruel? For all of Thor’s misgivings, Loki must find all of this _terrifying._ He’d grown up believing himself to be fully male, after all. Thor can’t imagine what it would be like to feel as if his body was not his own. Not for the first time, Thor is grateful he was born a man.

 

Everything is so impossible. What would Groa say? What would _Odin_ say? No one even knows Loki is Jotunn. It will expose them both. 

 

Thor turns his face to the sky.

 

He can barely picture it - Loki with Thor’s child in his arms, of Thor play-roughhousing, of him and Loki sharing a few quiet moments before their child wakes. The three of them, together. _A_ _happy family_. Thor laughs. It’s so bizarre it borders on the absurd, but when he looks deep inside himself, Thor finds he…... _wants_ it, and not simply because he’s long desired to be a father. He wants _Loki’s_ child.

 

There is a reason Thor has been dragging his heels in freeing Loki from the torque, a secret reason that he’d never dare utter to anyone, let alone to Loki’s face. It’s not that he’s worried Loki would use his magic against him, although that possibility has certainly crossed Thor’s mind. He’s handled Loki’s antagonism before; it would be painful, but he could do it again.

 

He could not bear it, however, if Loki used his magic to disappear. Thor wishes their relationship were enough to make Loki stay, but then again, he has no way of knowing how deep Loki’s wounds run, or what he’d do if he had his magic reinstated. So long as his magic is bound, he is trapped here with Thor. His wings are clipped. He relies on Thor for everything, and Thor prides himself on his ability to provide. Thor dotes on him like a lovesick suitor, bringing Loki treats and gifts and personally escorting him to the library or to the gardens when he’s feeling restless. He could assign this task to someone else - Thor is busy enough as it is - but that notion fills him with distaste. He enjoys Loki’s company, but moreover, he wants Loki to feel _indebted_ to him _._ How else can Thor pay for the sins he inflicts on Loki’s body?  Thor’s appetites are ravenous, and in the heat of the moment he sometimes lets his lust get the better of him. Call it sadistic, but there is a certain pleasure in taking stock of the markings on Loki’s body: his passion made tangible on Loki’s fair flesh. Bruises, bites, even the occasional limp. And now a pregnancy.    

 

Perhaps this will be what finally makes Loki _his,_ utterly and completely. No longer will Loki be able to say he is not bound to Thor by blood. Their lineages will mix and become as one. Thor dares to hope that having this child might be enough to convince him to stay. _Forever._

 

But that is the future. At present, only one thing is for certain: Loki needs him, now more than ever. The thought of him locked in his tower, alone, distressed, frightened, makes Thor awash with sorrow and pity. He must set things right between them. He must take responsibility for what he has done. He loves Loki, this he knows. He’s always loved Loki. Perhaps….perhaps this is what the higher gods had intended all along. Perhaps this is his destiny.

 

Having made up his mind, Thor makes his way up to Loki’s tower.

 

***

 

Thor rehearses what he’s going to say all the way up, but he already knows it won’t come out right.  It never does. And he’s only making himself nervous.

 

He waits a few moments before he raps at Loki’s door.

 

“Loki?” he calls, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

 

Thor listens carefully for any sound.  He could barge in, but he wants Loki’s permission. Loki has so little autonomy left in his life, Thor does not want to divest him of his privacy. He needs to set this conversation off on the right foot.

 

“Loki, please. We need to talk about this.”

 

 

“I brought you your favourite.” Thor says, at a loss, then thunks his head against the heavy door. Yes, that will undo the damage Thor’s words had done. Just offer him some candy. Less than a minute in and he’s already diverged from his mental script.

 

 

“I’ll wait out here all night, if that’s what it’ll take.”

 

Loki’s voice is muffled. “Go away.”

 

“Just a few moments and I will leave you in peace.”

 

“I have nothing to say to you.”

 

“Nothing?” Thor prods, “There is nothing you like better than giving me a thorough tongue-lashing, and I would deserve it.” He pauses, then adds, “More than usual.”

 

More silence.

 

“Please, Loki.” Thor repeats. “We need to talk. Please.”

 

“ _Fine,”_   comes the eventual reply. Thor exhales and unbars the door.

 

Loki is huddled on the divan by his fireplace, his arms wrapped around his knees protectively. The embers cast shadows on Loki’s pale face, but even so Thor knows he’d been crying. He is hit with a fresh pang of guilt.

 

“I brought you, ah…” Thor’s voice trails off as he sets the candies on the table. The diet can wait. “...chocolates.”

 

Loki does not even turn to face him. “It’s a little late for romance, don’t you think.”

 

 “But is it too late for an apology?”

 

Thor takes a knee at Loki’s feet, in the traditional pose of supplication.

 

“I have done….terrible things to you. This I do not deny. I am a selfish, stupid man.”

 

Loki ignores him, staring blankly at the fire. “You spoke to the healer?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“You trust her?”

 

“I do,” Thor says. “She is an old friend.”

 

Loki seems to curl into himself even more, but his face remains neutral. “There is a tea I could take. Rarer than the other herbs. I’d need a high dose, but the sooner I take it, the more effective it will be -“

 

Thor’s eyes blow wide when he figures out what Loki intends.  “No. No. Not for a child of royal blood. Of my blood. I won’t let you.”

 

Loki sneers, finally turning to look at Thor. “What do you care? You said this was a mistake. _My_ mistake. You don’t want it either, you’ve made that perfectly plain.”

 

“I let myself be overcome,” Thor says carefully.  “I did not know how to handle such news. I said things to you I did not mean. I was cruel. But I reflected upon it and I……. I want it.” Thor swallows with finality. “I want this child.”

 

At this, Loki pauses, his brow knotting.

 

“I want to have this child.” Thor repeats to drive the point home. “With you.”

 

Loki stares at Thor for a few moments, unspeaking, until Thor begins to shift uncomfortably on his knee.

 

At length, Loki responds. “You’ve _lost your mind._ You’ve lost your fucking mind. I thought you’d _want_ me to get rid of it - conniving, _manipulative_ seducer that I am.” Loki says sourly, “You don’t trust me still; you’d be a fool to. So why, Thor? Why the sudden change of heart?”

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Loki. I spoke out of line. I should never have accused you like that.” Thor says earnestly, “It was I who brought this upon us. And I thought - after everything that has transpired between us, I suppose I thought this could be a - a fresh start. A new chapter in our lives.”

 

Loki is clearly unmoved. Not for the first time, Thor wishes he could look into his brother’s mind and ascertain his true thoughts.

 

“I will say I forced myself on you.” Thor goes on, then pauses. He _had_ forced himself on Loki - or at least, often pressured him for sex when Loki was clearly reluctant. “Then you will be blameless.”

 

Loki scoffs disbelievingly. “No one would believe that. Even if it were true.”

 

“No harm will come to you, I swear it,” Thor says, although he’s not even sure how he can make such a promise. “I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

 

At this, Loki’s eyes narrow.

 

“And what would become of the child I bear, hmmm?  Did you even think of that? What will become of _me,_ once I am exposed for being what I am _?”_ Loki looks at him tiredly and shakes his head. _“_ I can’t have this child. It’s impossible. You’re a fool for even considering it.”

 

Thor searches Loki’s face, noting Loki’s choice of words.

 

“But would you…...want it?” Thor asks softly. “If things were different?”

 

Loki laughs, a bitter, sarcastic sound.  “Different? Different _how_? If the whole world didn’t think me to be your blood brother? If I weren’t your prisoner? If Odin weren’t still looking for any excuse to lock me away forever? In what universe, _my brother,_ would this _ever_ be a good idea?”

 

“It won’t even be full Aesir,” Loki goes on miserably. “You’ll have a half-breed Jotunn bastard for a child.”

 

Thor reaches for Loki imploringly, “Don’t speak like that.”

 

“It’s true,” Loki’s face contorts angrily, and he curls away from Thor’s touch. “It might come out blue for all you know. It might have red eyes, horns, hoofs, gods know what. Would you still acknowledge it then? Let everyone know you fucked a monster?”

 

“Loki,” Thor says, his heart breaking at the disgust on Loki’s face.

Loki takes Thor’s hand.

 

“Just - just tell me you don’t want it. Tell me you want me to get rid of it. Please, Thor. I beg of you. I can’t have this child. I can’t. It would damn us both. Don’t ask this of me.” His voice wavers, but for once he doesn’t bother to hide it. “Don’t ask this of me. Please.”

 

“Loki,” Thor rises off the floor to sit next to Loki, and takes him into his arms. He cups Loki’s cheek affectionately. Even blotchy-faced and wrung out, Loki is beautiful.  “I do want it. I want _you_. And I will love the child because it is ours,  because I love you. How could I not?” He pauses, gathering his thoughts as best as he is able, but the words tumble out in an ineloquent mess. “When you fell, I was bereft. I searched for you long after all the others had lost hope. I scoured the darkest depths of Yggdrasil to bring you back, often at the risk of my own life. They tried to stop me, to get me to move on, but I couldn’t - I needed to know, at the very least, if you had died, or if you were alive somewhere, hurt, alone, frightened. If you were calling out for me. I thought I heard you, sometimes, but grief rendered me insensible, and I thought maybe I was imagining it.  All I knew was  the prospect of living the rest of my days without you was too daunting to bear. I refused to believe you were gone.”

 

Loki’s face is unreadable, so Thor goes on:

 

“You are my past, Loki, and my present. But more than anything, you are my future. And I think, deep down, I’ve always known this to be so.”

 

Loki continues to watch him for a moment, searching for any trace of insincerity. Upon finding none, his eyes glisten, and he turns away.

 

“This is madness,” Loki murmurs as he mops his face with his sleeve. “You’re letting your damn feelings get in the way. You’re not thinking this through. You just want it because Groa can’t give you one.”

 

Thor purses his lips and tries to swallow down the frustration that Loki cannot seem to ever accept his words as they are.

 

 “I ask a lot of you. I know. More than I have any right to.” Thor says, “But I promise I will take care of you. I swore an oath that I would not abandon you. And I mean it, even now.”

 

Loki lets out a shaky laugh. “I am not sure if I am nauseous from the child or from the unctuous sweetness of your words.”

 

“Carry this child for me,” Thor goes on, determined not to let Loki derail his profession. “And I will raise you up. It will give me more grounds to bargain for your freedom.”

 

This, it seems, is enough to give Loki pause. Thor can practically hear the wheels in his mind turning. Loki chews his lip.

 

“You’ll acknowledge it,” Loki says at length. “Publicly.”

 

“Aye,” Thor affirms.

 

“Hold it in your arms as you sit in state.”

 

“Whatever you want.”

 

“They’ll all talk,” Loki warns, “The court, the other realms, _everyone_.”

 

“Let them.” Thor says. “I am their future king. There is nothing they can say that would change my mind.”

 

They sit there for a long time in silence, watching the embers fade. Aside from some rare exceptions, it is so rare for Loki to allow Thor to hold him, and Thor can’t help but relish it. In times past, he’d made the mistake of taking Loki’s affection as his rightful due. Like it was _owed_ to him. It was only after Loki had slipped from his fingers that he’d realized just how much he needed his brother at his side.  He can’t lose him again.

 

“So…..?” Thor hazards.

 

“I can’t believe we’re considering this.” Loki mutters.

 

Thor smiles softly, then carefully, very carefully, leans forward to press a tender kiss to Loki’s lips. Thor starts slowly, lazily, and opens Loki up to him in slow increments. Emboldened, Thor deepens the kiss, trying to communicate what his words so often fail to convey.

 

Thor pulls back. Loki’s eyes are still closed, and he looks a bit dazed.

 

“Alright,” he whispers.

 

“Yes?”

 

Loki opens his eyes. “Yes.”

 

Unable to conceal his delight, Thor smiles brightly and squeezes Loki tight, making him squeak. “You will not regret it, I swear.”

 

“I’m already regretting it,” Loki huffs into his shoulder, “I can’t breathe, you great brute. You’ll crush it.”

 

Thor immediately loosens, and Loki rolls his eyes.

 

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

 

“I understand,” Thor says.

 

They fall into silence. Thor does not want to press his luck by saying anything else. Thor doesn’t expect Loki to grant his forgiveness easily, but Thor nonetheless clings to the hope that they will one day be reconciled.

 

“I’m tired,” Loki announces suddenly. He extricates himself from Thor’s grasp and pads over to the bed.

 

“Do you want me to -”

 

“No, you can stay.” Loki says as he pulls back the covers, “But I’ve had enough of your _talk_ , so shut your mouth and grant me some peace.”

 

Thor stifles a smile. “Fair enough.”

 

Thor does not join him, because he’s not sure if it would be welcome right at this moment, and Thor knows he has to be on his best behavior for the next while. So he sits. He waits. Loki scowls. 

 

 “What are you waiting for? Come here.”

 

Gratefully, Thor gets up off the divan and climbs into bed next to his brother, and lies down towards him so that they are face-to-face. Loki closes his eyes, but Thor doesn’t, he can’t. He wants to memorize the sight and commit it the vaults of memory, so that when he’s as old as dust and ash, he can call upon it, and remember how achingly beautiful Loki had looked in that moment.

 

“I have never given you reason trust me,” Loki says, long after Thor thought him to be asleep, “And I know my word means nothing, but I did not mean for this to happen. Truly.”

 

Thor thinks on this. In his heart he feels Loki is being genuine, but there is always the niggling worry that he isn’t, that this is just another one of his convoluted schemes. Thor has always erred on the side of trusting people, however, and decides that he believes him. Even on the off-chance Loki had done it on purpose, what does it matter? This is the reality now, and despite it all, Thor finds himself ready and willing to face whatever comes their way.

 

“Then it is a happy accident.” Thor says with a soft smile, and deep in his heart, he believes it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is PREGNANT AS FUCK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the fluff before the storm. it’s way, waaaaay more schmoopey than usual, to the point where I think it’s almost ooc for this verse, but what the heck, y’know? i have a sweet tooth sometimes.
> 
> next chapter we will return to your regularly scheduled angst and twistiness.
> 
> Also, I think it’s important to say that I don’t think their relationship is particularly healthy, and I don’t condone what they do to each other. Thor can be a huge selfish dick sometimes, and Loki can be a twisted, manipulative little turd. They are both messed up in different ways, but they do love each other deep down. They are just dumb shits. Ok? ok :D
> 
> That being said, prepare yer insulin shots, cos here comes the syrup!

Thor does his best to carry on as normal, which isn’t even that hard to do, considering that he can’t bring himself to wrap his mind around the fact that Loki is _pregnant._ With _his child._

 

Loki, his brother. Loki, who pretty much destroyed New York. Pregnant.

 

 

_With his child!_

 

Thor throws himself into training to relieve his mind and keep his nerves at bay. He almost gives Hogun a concussion, which he is very sorry for. He just can’t seem to _focus._

 

“I suppose I’m feeling rather off today,” he mutters, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “Apologies, Hogun.”

 

Hogun grumbles and rubs the ice pack over the red mark on his forehead.

 

“Are you ill?” Fandral asks. “Maybe you caught what Loki had.”

 

“Oh, Loki’s fine,” Thor says, entirely too quickly. “I’m fine. We’re both fine. Very well, indeed. Thank you.”

 

“Yes, he looks it,” Volstagg says, looking over Thor’s shoulders to the sidelines, to where Loki is curled over, dry heaving.

 

Thor immediately rushes over to Loki, patting his back while minding the placement of his boots. Loki gags a few more times, then rights himself. He hadn’t vomited, but his face his red and his eyes are bleary.

 

“Again?” Thor drops his voice very, very low, “You said it had passed.”

 

“It’s not like I can control it!” Loki snaps. “I felt fine a minute ago.”

 

Thor purses his lips. He’d asked Healer Halldora to give Loki some kind of medication to alleviate his nausea, but she’d refused.

 

 _“Not until I learn more about Jotun biology,”_ she’d said, _“Else I risk his health, or that of the child.”_

 

So Loki suffers, and thus Thor suffers. The constant nausea makes him petulant and demanding. Thor has little enough patience as it is; and Loki has seemed to make a sport of pushing Thor to his limits, knowing full well Thor would never dare lay a hand on him in his present state.

 

Thor sighs. Aside from his bungled attempts at comforting, he can do little to help Loki.

 

“Here, drink,” Thor offers his flask, and Loki near snatches it out of his hand.  “Do you want to go lie down?”

 

“What I _want,”_ Loki says irritably after wiping his mouth, “is for this to be fucking _over._ You better pray the rest of my pregnancy is not like this. _”_

 

“Shhhhh,” Thor hisses. “ _Not so loud.”_

 

“What? It’s not like everyone won’t find out sooner or later.” Loki gives a little saucy wave to meet Fandral’s stare. “Or have you changed your mind about our little _situation_?”

 

“No! No,” Thor says quickly. “I’ll tell them.”

 

“You better.” Loki takes another plentiful gulp.

 

“.......Now?”

 

Loki corks the flask and tenses. “I would prefer not to be present for that conversation.”

 

“Oh.” Thor says. “Alright.”

 

“So long as you’ll tell them what you said you’d tell them.” Loki adds hastily. “Remember, I’d like to _not_ be seen as the one at fault, for once.”

 

Thor ducks his head sheepishly with a single nod.

 

“Is everything alright?” Volstagg says, as the four of them approach warily to investigate.

 

Thor opens his mouth to speak, but Loki answers first. “Yes, Thor was just taking me back up to my room. Still feeling a bit _under the weather._ Shame about your head, friend. If it’s any consolation, you took that hit like a real champ.”

 

Hogun glares at Loki from beneath his ice pack.

 

Loki is already halfway back into the palace, having turned around so sharply his braid near thwacks Thor in the face. Thor shoots his friends an apologetic look over his shoulder, promising to meet them later, as he trails after his brother. His neck feels hot. Stars, how could they _not_ suspect something is amiss? He’s acting like a meek cuckolded husband.

 

They walk in silence up to the tower, as Thor has not the energy to chastise Loki for mocking Hogun's injury. Loki flops down on his divan with a theatric groan and closes his eyes.

 

“The child is intent on giving me no rest.” He mutters, laying a hand on his still flat stomach. “Just like his father.”

 

Thor sits down next to Loki.

 

“You think it’s a ‘he’?”

 

Thor can tell Loki’s rolling his eyes, even though his eyes are shut.

 

“It’s probably the size of a bean.” Loki says. “So no, I can’t tell. It’s just speculation at this point.” His eyes open a slit. “Why? Would you want a boy?”

 

“I wouldn’t care,” Thor says honestly. He knows Odin would prefer a male heir……..under normal circumstances. Thor has no idea what Odin would think about _this._

 

“No, you wouldn’t, so long as it’s not a freak like me.” Loki says, casual as you like.

 

Thor winces.

 

“Why do you put yourself down all the time?” Thor says. “Do you so hate yourself, Loki?”

Loki sighs tiredly. “I’m just pointing out the possibility. I don’t want you to be unprepared….lest I _pop it out_ and have you suddenly change your mind about everything.”

 

“Well that won’t happen,” Thor says stubbornly.

 

“That the child won’t be a freak?” Loki says flippantly, “Because last I checked, I am still genetically Jotun.”

 

“That I won’t acknowledge it,” Thor corrects, losing patience. “And I wouldn’t care. Boy or girl. Jotun or Aesir. Blue, green, orange. I _don’t care._ Why do you insist on not believing me?”

 

Loki shrugs. “Just checking.”

 

They fall into silence, both a tad annoyed at each other, but the tension eventually settles.

 

 “Don’t speak of yourself like that to me.” Thor says at length.

 

“Like what?” Loki asks in feigned innocence.

 

“Like….” Thor’s face burns; he hates the words and does not even want to bring himself to say them. “You know. Monster. Villain. _Freak._ You aren’t, so stop.”

 

Loki cocks his head. “I destroyed half of Midgard’s greatest city.”

 

“Yes, and I’m still rather sore with you about it!”

 

At this, Loki laughs, a rich, husky sound. “That was quite the afternoon.”

 

“You’ve done terrible things, monstrous things even, but that doesn’t make you a monster. Nobody thinks so.”

 

Loki looks at him dubiously.

 

“Well,” Thor falters. “Odin is not going to be king for much longer. And I say you’re not. There.”

 

Loki quirks an eyebrow and smirks. “It’s settled then, _my lord?’_

 

Loki only ever calls him that when he’s mocking him, but Thor is determined. “Say what you will about me but I won’t have you talk about yourself like that in my presence.”

 

Loki hums thoughtfully and clicks his tongue. “I see.”

 

Again they fall silent. Then Loki’s face breaks out into a smile, and for once it seems genuine, and almost….. _affectionate._

 

Thor, feeling like he’s won this particular battle, grins in return. “......Although, to be honest, you are an annoying little shite and you drive me up the wall.”

 

Loki laughs. “And yet here you are.”

 

 “Here I am,” Thor echos, still grinning. “How’s your stomach?”

 

“Still upset,” Loki admits. “I wish I’d just vomit and be done with it. It’s this waiting nonsense that’s the worst. Get me some water, will you?”

 

Thor knows Loki is bossing him just because he can, but Thor is in no mood to argue, so he obediently rises to pour them both glasses of cool water.

 

He hands one to Loki. “Just give me some warning if you do.”

 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Loki says, and sips his water.

 

Thor takes his place beside Loki with a yawn, laying his head back against the back of the couch and closing his eyes. This would be about the time he’d retire to his chambers for an afternoon nap, but he isn’t in the mood to have to trudge all the way there only to get a quarter hour’s rest. He nods off, lightly snoring, then jerks awake. No, this isn’t comfortable.

 

Thor shifts around, unsure. He knows what he _wants_ to do -

 

Loki seems to read his mind. He grumbles, annoyed, then guides down Thor’s head so it is resting in his lap.  Thor is surprised by this, pleasantly so, and settles more than willingly into Loki’s warmth. They’ve been fucking for a while, but more and more, Loki has been granting him the pleasure of these quiet moments of simple togetherness. Thor likes touching Loki, being near him, holding him, even without the expectation of sex.

 

“This is nice,” Thor says sleepily.

 

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty,” Loki says, but the tone is warm. With his free hand, Loki begins raking his nails through Thor’s hair, and Thor groans in pleasure. Loki’s touch is gentle, so gentle it’s hard to imagine Loki capable of such tenderness.

 

“Mmmmmm,” Thor hums, unable to help himself. He closes his eyes in dreamy bliss, all concerns and worries suddenly far, far from his mind.

 

“Look at you,” Loki remarks, “God of Thunder, reduced to a pussycat.”

 

Thor grins lazily.

 

“I bet I could ask anything of you right now.”

 

“Yes, probably,” Thor agrees. He’s so relaxed his words almost slur.

 

Loki’s nails pause a beat, then resume.

 

“Rest, brother.”

 

And Thor does.

 

 

***

 

He’s dreaming. He knows this, because he is nineteen again: young and impulsive and fresh faced and brimming with exuberance. His blood is hot, his energy boundless. He’s been entrusted with more power at court, and while his newfound princely duties thrill him, it’s the _perks_ that really consume his time and energies. There are always horse races, and hunts, and feasting, and _women._ Young virginal girls, sleek, seductive wives, experienced widows. Thor has his taste of them all. Loves them all, strews countless broken hearts in his wake.

 

It is about at this age that Mjolnir is granted to him. Thor will never forget the first time he flew with her, and although he’s always had his own untamable magic in his veins, through her Thor can summon thunderous storms and finally put his elemental energy to use. In a way, it feels as though he’s been gifted with a piece of himself he never knew existed. Thor triumphs, for indeed he is now a God, and heir apparent to the throne of Asgard.

 

The summer after his nameday, Thor is sent to live at the court of Vanaheim to learn the ways of kingship from the scholars there. He remembers the excitement of his assignment, of being tasked with representing his station in an official capacity for the first time. He itches for new adventure and new conquests, even though it means leaving behind his friends and family. 

 

Funnily enough, Thor remembers little of his years there. He has his fun, studies, trains, makes new friends and future allies. He charms the court and most of its ladies. He smiles easily, laughs heartily. His frame fills out to that of a man’s. Thor is strong and handsome, in the prime of youth. He returns to Asgard to much fanfare, and Odin crinkles his one eye in pride. 

 

At first, Thor hardly recognizes Loki. He’d left behind a knobby-kneed little snot of a brother to find, well -

 

Loki, now aged sixteen. He has grown tall - almost as tall as Thor himself, and his lean gangliness lends him a sort of awkward, elegant grace that reminds Thor of a doe or gazelle. His face is sharp and angular, having lost most of his baby fat, but the eyes are the same - still prismatic and obsidian-sharp. His voice has deepened and is now low and smooth and silky, and Thor finds himself mesmerized even when he’s being insulted with it. Loki works his magic with a smug, confident ease that wasn’t there before. He puts on a vibrant indoor fireworks show to celebrate Thor’s return, and finishes by summoning the spectral form of a fire dragon to dance across the ceiling. He, too, has had training during their years apart.

 

Thor can’t remember what he says upon their reunion, exactly; his words fail him. All he knows is that he finds Loki _beautiful,_ in a way that is wholly inappropriate for one man to another. For one _brother_ to another _._

 

Thor buries these thoughts deep and refuses to fuel them. He quickly resumes his roguish ways, bedding Asgardian beauties every night and tiring of them just as quickly. His lust is insatiable. Nothing can scratch the itch burning in his brain - nothing within his reach, that is. He fucks women like he has something to prove, and although it feels good in the moment, he’s left empty and wanting afterwards. 

 

He catches himself sneaking glances at Loki. He so badly wants to touch, to see. But no.  He curses himself every time he thinks on Loki this way, and steadfastly looks away every time a sliver of pale, flawless skin is exposed to him.

 

So, perhaps he went a bit overboard once Loki was finally made available for his pleasure. Who can blame him, after centuries of self-denial?

 

Thor is dreaming again, but this time he’s upon Loki like a starving man, greedy for every carnal delight Loki’s body had to offer. He’s not disappointed: Loki’s Jotun form is strange and exotic, offering countless possibilities for pleasure and satisfaction.Thor’s dream-self fucks Loki’s cunt from behind, then pulls out just to bully his way inside his tight little ass instead; in part because he can, and also because this invariably leads to Loki’s climax, even when no other hand is upon him. Loki’s face is a mix of shock and ecstasy, as though he can’t believe he’s just been brought to orgasm. His sweet, depraved brother, at once haughty and proud even when he’s on his knees sucking cock. Thor is much rougher in the early months of their affair - rutting Loki against the wall, on the floor, brutally fisting Loki’s hair as he fucks him from behind. It’s as though he’s punishing Loki for his betrayal, for daring to leave Thor’s side. Thor is angry - about New York, about Jotunheim, about having to watch Loki _let go_ \- and his anger seems to taint their every interaction. Thor wants Loki to be _his,_ to possess him utterly, for the thought of losing him again is unbearable. Thor smothers him under the weight of his thrusts, grips him too hard, handles him too roughly. He wants to _feel_ Loki, so that in some perverted sense, he can convince himself that Loki is indeed underneath him, and that their couplings are not simply some drawn out fever dream borne out of endless longing.

 

As time rolls on, Thor’s anger and hurt abates, but his passion for Loki does not. Loki is impossible to resist, alone in a tower room with a lock that is quickly undone by Thor’s master key. Untamable too, in the way he constantly goads Thor for more, as if he _wants_ to be made to submit, _wants_ to be dominated, _wants_ to provoke Thor’s inner berserker. This is the game they play. Thor sometimes feels guilty for it, although he quickly reminds himself that this must be what Loki wants, else he would not toy with Thor’s temper so carelessly. For when Loki is good, Thor will lick his cunt and fuck him sweetly, whispering words of love and devotion as he does so. Loki needs that just as much as he needs it rough, even though he’ll never admit it.

 

And now, there is a piece of Thor growing in Loki, being nurtured deep inside his body. Thor might never _have_ Loki, in the most absolute sense of the word, but at least he has this. And he will love their child, so that even if Loki runs, Thor will still have a part of him to hold onto. This alone is worth the possible repercussions of making their union public. And maybe, just maybe, in loving their child, he might convince Loki to stay.

 

Loki _has_ to stay.

 

He has to.

 

***

 

Thor wakes some time later, half-hard, as Loki shifts underneath him.

 

“I have to piss,” he says, “Get off.”

 

Groggily, Thor raises his head, and Loki gets up and pads to his small bathroom. He listens closely for vomiting noises, and is relieved when there are none.

 

Thor scrubs a hand over his face. He has meetings to attend, but he’s feeling lazy, and Loki seems to be in high enough spirits. It will be a struggle to tear himself away from his company. Thor palms his cock through his trousers and wills it to settle down. He’d be so game for a quick suck if he had time; he’s sure Loki would comply if he asked. But Thor also knows he wouldn’t have time to reciprocate, and leaving Loki hanging would perhaps be bad form.

 

He picks up the book Loki had left on the nightstand to distract himself and perhaps bore away his erection. It’s another Midgardian book, one with pictures of galaxies and nebulae on the cover. It looks like it has seen better days - objects of Midgardian origin rarely make it through the Bifrost unscathed. Thor flips to a page Loki had dogeared. It’s full of diagrams and text that Thor can barely make any sense of. English, Thor thinks, but a newer form of English than the one Thor had been taught centuries ago. Thor has no idea where Loki learned to read the modern form, but he’s hardly surprised. Loki is brilliant. He probably has the greatest intellect in Asgard -  save for Odin, of course. Thor would put Loki on his Council in an instant if he knew for certain he could trust him. Between his magic, his advice, and his comfort, Loki would make an invaluable asset to Thor’s kingship. If he were female, he’d be the perfect queen.

 

 _He is half female,_ says a voice inside Thor’s head. _Close enough?_

 

Thor shakes his head to rid himself of the thought and focuses instead on the unintelligible words on the page in front of him. Thor feigns deep concentration as Loki emerges from his washroom.

 

“More _science_ , I see.”

 

“Yes,” Loki confirms. He waits for Thor to lift his head, then sinks back down in his place. Thor drops his head back on Loki’s lap. “I think your precious little Midgardians are on the verge of discovering the other Realms.”

 

“Really?” Thor squints at a particularly complex looking graph. So they are making progress! Thor is rather proud, despite not having done anything to contribute to their advancement. “Seems like just yesterday they were flinging rocks at each other and dressing in raw animal hide.”

 

“Well, they haven’t improved _that_ considerably,” Loki says, “But they’re coming.”

 

“For all your contempt you sure seem to have taken a keen interest in their learning.”

 

Loki merely shrugs.

 

“I don’t know how you make sense of this,” Thor flips a few pages. He can only recognize a few words. Some are the pretty much the same as in Old English; others must be recent additions to the lexicon. _Quarks._ What in  Bor’s name is a quark? “Where did you even learn modern English?”

 

“All I have is time.” Loki says. “Time and books.” Loki snatches the book from Thor and sets it down on the adjacent table. “Don’t you have “Council or something?”

 

Thor groans. “Yes. Soon.”

 

“How dull.” Loki trails his nails through Thor’s hair. “I bet I could make you stay.”

 

“Mmmm, I don’t doubt it.” Thor all but purrs, “Especially if you keep doing that.”

 

“Then you’ll get in trouble,” Loki taunts, sing-song, as he used to when they were both young, thrill-seeking mischief-makers. Although Loki is technically the Trickster God, as youths, they were equally matched in mischief. But because Loki used magic, he was often met with a degree of suspicion that was never levelled against Thor. It is unfortunate that seidr is so misunderstood, even though the much-beloved Queen of Asgard is a powerful sorceress in her own right. When Thor is King, he’ll endeavor to lessen its stigma.

 

“I’m sure more than one Council member  would delight in switching me for my lack of punctuality.” Thor says. “Somehow I don’t think ‘ _Loki was distracting me’_ qualifies as an acceptable excuse for always being late.”

 

Loki snorts. “Then _I’ll_ get in trouble.”

 

“When I’m king I will simply hold my Council meetings here, lounging in your lap,” Thor declares, tapping his temple as if to stress the supreme cleverness of this idea. “I’ll never dread going, and I’ll never be late.”

 

“Then be on guard, my love, for I will whisper to you, and you will think them your own thoughts, and through you I will reign.”

 

Thor laughs darkly. He sits up and smirks at his crafty brother, taking his face in his hands and leaning in so that their faces are almost touching.

 

“Is that so?” Thor purrs lowly, “You still mean to rule, do you?”

 

“I am a prince,” Loki says, not backing down from Thor’s gaze.

 

“Mmm. So you are.”  Indeed Loki is regal, with his aristocratic face, high cheekbones and long, lean fingers. Thor would have him arrayed in the finery befitting his station, enthroned at Thor’s side, cradling their child in his arms and looking down his nose at the court like a spoiled, overindulged mistress. Thor draws him closer because he can’t help it, and crashes their lips together in a deep languid kiss. It would be so easy to lay him down….

 

“Ah, brother,” Thor groans into Loki’s mouth, feeling his cock stir in interest. “If this goes any further I will be very late indeed.”

 

He kisses Loki on the lips one more time, the pulls back. Loki appears distressed for a moment, but collects himself almost instantaneously, assuming his usual unaffected air.

 

“Tonight?”

 

Loki nods, reaching for his book. “Aye.”

 

“I will be back.” Thor rises and adjusts his cloak. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes,” Loki says, opening the book to his page. He waves his hand. “I’m fine. I will see you tonight. Go now.”

 

Thor parts with a final kiss to Loki’s forehead and locks the door behind him, regretting that, even after all this time, Loki is still his prisoner.

 

***

***

***

 

Thor plans to tell Odin, he does, but each time he opens his mouth to speak, his throat seems to close over, as if the words themselves were made of lead. Thor could swear he _knows,_ and is simply waiting for Thor to muster the courage to confess. Thor is almost relieved to be assigned a diplomatic mission to Alfheim, even though it will mean he’ll be taken from Loki’s side for a few weeks.  He can’t unload news like that without being present to do damage control.

 

Loki reacts to this news impassively.

 

“But it won’t be too long,” Thor explains. “A few weeks, at most.  And I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

 

“Then you intend to leave your cock behind?” Loki says.

 

Thor blinks. Loki nonchalantly picks at his nail lacquer.

 

“It’s not really a good time for you to leave,” Loki says softly.

 

“I know,” Thor sits next to him with a sigh, “But I can’t refuse the Allfather’s command. Until he crowns me king, I am still his subject, and must comply with his wishes. But don’t fret, I will have told Halldora to check on you daily. She will be on call if you need anything. Day or Night. And my own manservant Ragnir will escort you anywhere you would like to go.”

 

Thor pauses, anticipating for Loki to make a snide comment about being _babysat,_ but he merely nods and looks down at his fingernails. 

 

“I depart tomorrow morning. It’s rather last-minute, I know. Father had planned to go himself, but he changed his mind….I suppose he felt I would be well suited to the task. I’m not sure if I will be able to see you again before I go…” Thor’s voice trails off.  “I wish I could take you with me.”

 

Loki looks up. “Would you?”

 

“Of course. It will be boring without you.”

 

Loki’s face is almost wistful, then he turns away with a frown.

 

“I won’t be going anywhere for awhile.” he says sullenly, laying his hand over his stomach.

 

“Come on, Loki. You’re pregnant, it’s not a death sentence!”

 

Loki’s frown deepens, and Thor knows immediately this was not the right thing to say.

 

“All I mean is, once you recover from the birth, I don’t see why life won’t continue as before. You’ll be a -” Thor falters briefly,“- A parent, sure, but there will be nursemaids and attendants to help you. And I will be there. You aren’t going to have to do this alone. And after you are freed, we can go. Wherever you want, Loki, I’ll take you.……“

 

All this tumbles out of Thor without much foresight. In truth, he’s not really sure how to make that happen once Loki has a child to care for; it will be hell enough to get Council to agree to his unbinding. But Thor sees the wanderlust in Loki’s face. Loki _wants_ to leave, to escape, and Thor will have no way of stopping him once his magic is restored to him. The best he can do is accompany Loki, so that after he’s seen everything the Realms have to offer,  he’ll come back home to stay.

 

Loki shoots him a look and crosses his arms over his still flat belly. “When are you going to tell Odin, then? If you think it’s as simple as that?”

 

Thor’s smile dims. For all his talk, he really has no idea how the Allfather would react to such news - if he’d be furious or disgusted or disappointed, or some dreadful combination thereof.  But Thor is determined not to show any hint of hesitation - not to Loki.

 

“Before you begin to show, I suppose,” Thor says. “When I get back. Soon.”

 

Loki says nothing for a long while.

 

“Well, make sure you do it before my gaoler does. There will come a point where I will not longer be able to hide my……. _condition_.” Loki spits the word with venom, as if the very word is distasteful on his tongue. “And I’d rather he hears it from you than from some rat-faced decrepit old man who is already out to get me.”

 

Thor nods, choosing (wisely) not to comment. They sit in silence for awhile.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Loki says, glancing at Thor. His eyebrows are pinched together in uncharacteristic worry, and for a moment, he looks almost _lost._ “Because it’s not too late to -”

 

“I’m sure, Loki.” Thor interrupts. He gives Loki’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze and smiles. “Everything will be alright, I will make sure of it. I would not make a promise to you I could not keep. You trust me, right?”

 

Loki purses his lips.

 

“Yes,” he says at length, with an exasperated sigh. “I have little other choice.”

 

“Everything will be fine,” Thor repeats, both for his own sake and for Loki’s. “Now come here.” He scoops Loki up and kisses him, tentatively at first, then more enthusiastically once Loki returns it. It pleases him to be able to kiss and touch Loki like this, given all the years where he desperately wanted to but couldn’t.

 

Thor cradles Loki’s face as though it were a precious, fragile treasure. “Purge your mind of these worries, sweetheart. This is my last night with you, so let us make it a happy one.”

 

***

 

Alfheim is beautiful. It is a temperate place, in a state of perpetual spring. The Light Elves greet Thor with so much adoration and reverence that he almost forgets the situation that awaits him back home. He raises his hand over the crowd and savors their roar of applause. Although Thor quickly tires of the minutiae of kingship, there is nothing quite like being at the centre of a good celebration.

 

Alfheim has been at peace with Asgard for many millennia, so the enthusiastic welcome Thor receives is not unexpected. Thor knows he has difficulty speaking delicately, and often struggles to contain his temper when things are not going his way, but here, it’s easy to slip into the role of the effortlessly charming Crown Prince of Asgard. This is the kind of diplomatic mission that would be near impossible to bungle. Perhaps that’s why Odin found it fitting to send him.

 

His purpose is a simple one: to renew the Treaty of Eternal Peace, which Asgard had signed with Alfheim near five millennia ago. The Light Elves are a peace-loving race, eternally in Asgard’s debt for having come  to their aid when they faced invasion from Nidavellir. Since then, trade has blossomed between the two worlds. Asgard may be known for its gilded halls, but one would be hard-pressed to find metalwork as fine and as intricate as that produced by nimble elvish hands. Thor makes a mental note to bring some of their jewelry back for Loki. He would look so beautiful with an elvish diadem woven into his hair…..

 

Their ruler of some centuries, a light-elf named Gwend, receives Thor warmly in the splendor of her crystal court. Unlike Asgard’s sturdy, massive halls, they build their palaces in glass and stone, sinuous, airy and vertical. At first glance, it all seems so fragile, but Thor knows these halls are as old as the Treaty itself. The glass, he’s told, is infused with magic to make it strong yet flexible. Thor hums. Loki would probably find that interesting. Maybe one day he will bring him here, to learn some elvish enchantments. 

 

Gwend is young-looking, perhaps only a few centuries older than Thor, but well-suited to rulership. She is striking with her white-blonde hair and lavender eyes, yet dignified and elegant. Her lips curl shrewdly, and a fierce intellect burns behind her soft features. Rulership in Alfheim tends to run down the female line, after having had a string of inept male kings some millennia ago. Alfheim has prospered ever since. No one holds Thor’s gender against him, however; they love him as they love the Almighty Allfather. Still, Thor feels like something of a curiosity, standing near two heads taller than even the tallest elf, and lacking their natural grace. He’s the hammer-wielding God of Thunder; he’s not exactly known for being _subtle._

 

Gwend has prepared a feast to mark Thor’s arrival, the first of many no doubt, as Alfheim has not played host to Asgardian high royalty for some time. The food is as delicious as Thor had anticipated, but not quite - how would one put it - as _hearty_ as traditional Asgardian fare.  The Light Elves take pride in the fine craftsmanship of their cuisine, favoring quality over quantity, while Thor could eat a whole boar if he were hungry enough (and wash it down with a barrel of mead to boot). Thor is served a small plateful that looks so decorative he isn’t even sure it’s meant to be eaten. The asparagus is arranged _just so,_ atop a finely sculpted mound of rice and salmon and some other delicious-looking meat that Thor doesn’t recognize. He knows he looks ridiculous handling their fine porcelain and glass utensils, even though he’s given a set specifically crafted for one more his size. The Light Elves have more elaborate system of etiquette than Asgardians do, and Thor has to constantly remind himself not to pick things up with his fingers. For dessert, he’s given a small bowlful of creamy white pudding topped by a hard crust. It’s _delicious._ Thor ought to have paced himself; he’s still starving by the time he’s finished eating (it takes about a minute to consume), but smiles anyway and compliments the fine food and his host’s hospitality.

 

“I was sorry to hear of your loss,” Gwend says into Thor’s ear, softly, so that no one else could hear. “It is a pity your wife could not join you.”

 

“Thank you,” Thor says sincerely. “She has faced many trials in our short marriage. I’m hope you understand that her absence is on account of personal reasons only.”

 

“Mmmm, of course.” Gwend says, considering. “Let the dear rest. And please, let us know if there is anything we can do that would make your stay more _comfortable_.”

 

Thor smiles and thanks her for her generosity. They drink to eternal friendship and peace. Thor is grateful that at least the wine flows freely.

 

After the feast, a troupe of elvish dancers and acrobats give a performance that truly leaves Thor breathless  (how can they be so _flexible?)_ , while their ethereal singing sends shivers down Thor’s spine.Toasts are offered to Thor and to Odin; they all adore him, he can see it in their face. Thor is in high spirits, even though his stomach rumbles with hunger.

 

By the time he retires to his chambers, he’s starving, and his mood is beginning to sour. Would it be rude to send for some food? Thor will surely waste away completely before he returns to Asgard if they insist on feeding him so sparingly!

 

Thor has nearly resigned himself to perpetual hunger when there is a knock at his door. Thor calls for whoever it is to enter, and is greeted with the most appetizing scent. Two pretty elvish maids, one brunette and one blonde, enter his room, a cartful of covered dishes and platters in tow.

 

They curtsey and lift the cover. It’s a roast duck. An _entire_ roast duck.

 

Thank the Norns.

 

“Queen Gwend of Alfheim knows of Your Highness’ legendary hunger,” The brunette says coyly, “And has sent us to help sate it.”

 

Thor makes a weird coughing noise at the suggestiveness in their tone.

 

“What?” Thor says rather weakly. He gauges their faces and realizes, to his horror, he hadn’t misunderstood.

 

In an even smaller voice, he says, “Both of you?”

 

They smile. “Both of us.”

 

Thor rakes his hand through his beard. His reputation precedes him, it seems. Funny how once upon a time,  this would have been the very _opposite_ of a problem. Four years ago, he would have thought nothing of screwing these two beautiful women all night and into the morning, until they were all fucked out and sated. Now that Thor thinks about it, he hasn’t had any trysts since he started regularily sleeping with Loki. Aside from having to lay with Groa, Thor’s been utterly faithful.

 

But then, he hadn’t ever been tempted quite like this.

 

Well, first things first. Thor is going to _devour_ that duck.  He can’t think on an empty stomach, after all. Thor only has so much self-control.

 

The elvish women set up the meal on the table, and Thor sits, his mouth already watering.

 

“My apologies, ladies,” Thor says, digging in with his fingers. He can’t be bothered with manners anymore, and he certainly isn’t going to use that finnicky cutlery of theirs. “I have not the finesse of an elvish man.”

 

“We don’t mind, my lord,” the blonde one says.

 

“We like a man with an appetite.” the brunette adds.

 

They stand there, eyes bright and expectant, as Thor shifts uncomfortably. Are they just going to watch him eat?

 

The brunette pours more of that delicious pink wine, which Thor downs in a single go.

 

“Is there anything else you need?”

 

“No, no,” Thor says, between mouthfuls of duck. “It is very good.”

 

At that, they bow their heads and back away, and Thor is grateful, for he doesn’t particularly want  to offend their delicate sensibilities with his boorish manners. He ought to send them away, but finds he simply can’t - old habits die hard. He eats until half the duck is gone, periodically washing down his second dinner with more wine.

 

The drink helps him forget they’re there for awhile, until he hears sweet giggling noises behind him. He ignores it at first, but his curiosity eventually gets the better of him. He looks over his shoulder -

 

“Oh, _Norns,”_ he groans, upon discovering the two on his bed,  brunette’s dress undone, her top pooled around her belted waist to reveal firm, perky breasts. Her hand is disappearing under her friend’s skirts, and the blonde throws her head back in pleasure, although it’s probably more for show than anything else. They both look at him seductively in invitation, and Thor curses under his breath. No, no he shouldn’t

 

And yet -

 

They reach out to him and Thor rises automatically, as if he’s being controlled by an invisible puppeteer. They’re hypnotizing, _magnetic,_ and Thor is definitely too drunk to be making good decisions.

 

His head swims as they pull him down to lie on his back. He’s full and exhausted: just the right conditions for a lazy screw. Their hands on him make him buck, they smell sweet, they are soft and eager. Thor is hard, and when the blonde slithers down to cup at his erection he moans aloud. They touch him and they touch each other. The brunette kisses at his neck, and Thor can’t help but fondle her exposed breasts in return. Sometimes he forgets how much he used to like bedding women. 

 

It feels good. Very good. But it doesn’t feel _right._

 

Thor remembers the years of his youth, when he’d spend countless nights in the arms of women he cared nothing for, only imagining what it would be like to hold his brother instead. Thor remembers that _longing,_ of wanting Loki so badly his chest would constrict around his lungs and render him almost unable to breathe. Now he has Loki - as much as it is possible to _have_ one such as Loki - and he lets himself be led astray just as quickly?

 

Even though Loki would never find out, even though he made no vow of fidelity to Loki, this is one boundary Thor can’t bring himself to cross.

 

“Stop, stop.” Thor says breathlessly, pushing the brunette before she kisses him on the lips. “Ah, I can’t.”

 

Worry flickers across her face. “Have we displeased you, my lord?”

 

“No, no,” Thor says hurriedly. “Not at all. You are both beautiful. Stunning, even. I just - I can’t.”

 

“We won’t tell,” she croons.

 

“We can keep a secret.” The other says.

 

“I’m married,” Thor offers as some kind of half hearted excuse. They look at each other, mystified.

 

“On Asgard, perhaps,” The brunette says, “But you’re in Alfheim now.”

 

“And we want to make sure you enjoy yourself.” The blonde rubs him through his breeches and Thor groans.

 

“I know, and I want to, I really, really -” Thor gulps, “ _really_ want to, but I can’t.”

 

Thor sits up, and the two back off somewhat. “Please just go,” he says gently, before the last of his self-control wears away completely. If this goes any further he’s unsure he’ll have the resolve to resist. He repeats more firmly, “I’m married, and I wish to respect my vows.”

 

They stare at him blankly for a few moments, until the brunette’s face melts into a gooey grin, as though Thor were a puppy that had just done something utterly, utterly precious. This, at least, helps to wither his erection somewhat.

 

“That’s _so sweet,_ ” she gushes, and the blonde punches her in the shoulder.

 

“ _Ow_ ,” she huffs to her friend. ”Well it is.”  She turns back to Thor, beaming, “He’s in _love.”_

 

“I am,” Thor agrees, if it will get them out of here more swiftly. “Very much.”

 

“Would it please you, then, to watch us?”

 

Thor nearly sobs.  “I pray you, do not tempt me, for if such a sight were put before me I could hardly keep myself away. I thank you for your….. _hospitality,_ but my wish is to return to Asgard with my honor intact.”

 

“Then we will not impose,” The brunette says, still beaming. She tugs at her friend’s hand and they climb off Thor, much to his relief.  They rearrange their clothes and wish him goodnight with a polite curtsy, as though they hadn’t just been pawing at his cock and at each other. Thor knows he’s made the right decision, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t regret it just a little bit.

 

Alright, more than a little bit. But still. _  
_

“She is lucky to have you,” The blonde says, and they are both out the door.

 

As soon as they are gone, Thor lets out the biggest exhale of his entire life and  pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

He truly is a fool in love.

 

***

 

Thor ought to apologize to the laundresses for the state of his sheets.  He’s on a diplomatic mission! Ymir’s balls, and here he is furiously pleasuring himself in an empty bed like a randy teenager. He’d be lying if he said the previous night’s events hadn’t triggered his appetite; Thor is still a man, after all. And besides, he’d forgotten what it’s like to have two pairs of adoring hands caress his body.

 

 _Loki can double himself,_ his twisted mind reminds him. _He has done it on the battlefield, why not in the bedroom?_

 

More dubiously, Thor comes (more than he’d like to admit) to thoughts of Loki with perky breasts. He’d stared his fill at the brunette’s sweet nubs, and for some reason, his mind easily supplants Loki’s face over hers just as he’s about to climax. He’s not sure why the perverse thought excites him so. It’s not like he hadn’t already wondered whether Loki would sprout little tits now that he’s pregnant. Thor simply…...hadn’t dwelt on it. Will he make milk like Asgardian women do? Do Jotun even lactate? They have nipples, don’t they? What else are nipples for?!

 

Yes, Thor had too much of that pink wine last night; his mind has been utterly frazzled. He sleeps well into midday and snores himself awake. A pitcher of ice water has materialized on his nightstand, and Thor sits up to take a drink. He hopes Gwend won’t take his refusal as a slight against her hospitality. The Elves are rather particular about that. What kind of fertility god turns down the chance at bedding two beautiful women?

 

As it turns out, when next they meet on the eve of the official signing, Gwend seems hardly displeased with him. 

 

“You will make a fine King of Asgard, one day,” She says, clasping his forearm in a gesture of solidarity.

 

Thor returns it, and decides to take that as a personal victory, even though half the ladies at court are now giving him that same gushing, dreamy look as the brunette had. Ugh, can women not keep their gossip to themselves?! He’ll have to fell a monster or two with his bare hands just to repair the damage to his reputation.

 

Thor is not _cute,_ damnit.

 

 ***

 

The ceremony surrounding the Treaty’s renewal is as boring as Thor expected, but at least it is more satisfying to be personally involved than to stand on the sidelines while Odin takes centre stage.  Thor feels like he’s done something worthwhile, so it’s easy to put up with all the little rituals that would otherwise seem so trivial. This is what being King will be like.

 

On cue, Thor signs his name above his titles:

 

_Thor, Son of Odin, Son of Bor, God of Thunderous Skies, Weilder of Mjolnir the Great, The One True Son of Asgard, Crown Prince._

 

Thor pauses briefly. The One True Son of Asgard? That hadn’t been amongst his titles before. His heart suddenly pangs for Loki. Hadn’t he been a son of Asgard? Isn’t he still?

 

Thor can’t afford to hesitate, so he signs it anyway, and isn’t sure why he feels so troubled while all of Alfheim’s court is erupting in jubilation.

 

***

 

Thor arrives home on the Bifrost some weeks later, after his sojourn in Alfheim has run its course. He’s greeted with yet more celebrations and joy, and is immediately whisked away to have a private supper with his family. Groa greets him politely, and she seems to be genuinely glad to see him. Thor smiles grimly in return. By now, all the elven women probably think him to be the perfect husband, when in fact his marriage is nothing but an elaborate farce.

 

“Sweetheart,” Thor says anyway, and kisses her cheek. His parents nod in approval.

 

Odin is pleased, that much is clear, and Thor basks in his approval.

 

“You’ve done well, my boy,” Odin claps his shoulder. “I am told the entire court of Alfheim was taken with you.”

 

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Frigga says, cooing, “You are your father’s son. Of course they’d love you!”

 

“No need to mock me, wife,” Odin says. 

 

“At least you look robust. I was worried they weren’t going to feed you. You know what they say about how the Light Elves eat!”

 

“I was well-kept in Alfheim,” Thor says. “In fact, I probably gained weight, with all the sweet delicacies offered to me during my stay.” Not only that, but there was so little opportunity to exercise on Alfheim. The LIght Elves are not a warrior race, so Thor was unable to train. Thor managed to practise a bit of archery there for sport, but it was hardly enough to burn through his limitless energy. His muscles feel doughy, and he’s already antsy to get back into the sparring ring.

 

“How is Loki?” Thor asks suddenly, and everyone falls silent.

 

“He’s well,” Frigga says at length. She smiles in a vain attempt to break the sudden tension. “I went to visit him.”

 

“You did?” Strange. Loki usually refuses her visits. “And?”

 

“He misses you,” Frigga says simply, and does not elaborate further.

 

“Than maybe we should fetch him,” Thor suggests. “Let us dine together as a family.”

 

More silence. Groa looks down at her hands.

 

“Another time, perhaps,” Odin says. “Come now, my son, regale us with tales of your adventures in Alfheim.”

 

Thor frowns, but conceals his disappointment. It breaks his heart, but there might never come a time when all of them could sit together in peace. Is it too much to ask, to have a family that does not despise each other?

 

***

 

It’s late, and Thor should probably go to bed, but he can’t keep himself away from Loki’s side any longer. The second he bids his parents goodnight, he bounds up the stairs to Loki’s tower, three steps at a time, like he did when he was an overenthusiastic adolescent. It feels like forever since he’s seen Loki last.

 

“Loki?” Thor calls at the door, panting. “It’s me. I’m back.”

 

Usually Loki makes him wait before he lets Thor in, but this time, the door flies open as soon as it’s unbarred. In a flash, Thor has his arms full of his brother.

 

“Loki,” Thor breathes into Loki’s neck, just to soak in the familiar smell of him. It feels so _right_ to hold Loki like this; Thor can’t believe he’d gone without for so long. “Did you miss me?”

 

“Shut up,” Loki says, sinking in deeper into Thor’s embrace, nestling into his neck and taking several deep inhales. Thor pulls him back at length, but keeps his hands resting on Loki’s shoulders.

 

“You’ve grown!”

 

Loki frowns, but his cheeks flush prettily in embarrassment. His hands cradle his stomach like he’s self-conscious about it.

 

He mutters, “You’ve been gone for five weeks.”

 

“Far too long,” Thor says, awed. “ _Look at you._ ”

 

Thor cups Loki’s face. His features look more full, and less gaunt and angular. He’s pink-cheeked. _Glowing,_ even. Pregnancy suits him well, and Thor is immeasurably pleased.

 

Thor knows he’s grinning that dopey grin Loki hates, but he can’t help it.

 

“Is is that noticeable?” Loki clasps himself tighter.

 

“Well, only because I haven’t seen you in awhile. Otherwise no, not really.” Thor glances down over Loki’s body, but his robes completely mask his tummy.  “It’s mostly in your face.”

 

“What’s wrong with my face?!”

 

“Nothing! You look good!” Thor stammers. “More…..healthy.”

 

“You can say it Thor. I gained weight. I know.” Loki grumbles. “I’m getting fat. I need new clothes. Even my looser shirts are beginning to get tight. I have to wear those heavier wraps, and I’m always hot.”

 

“You’re not fat, you’re growing in the fullness of child.”

 

“Oh, fuck me,” Loki groans. “Never, _ever_ call it that again.”

 

Thor hovers his hand over Loki’s stomach for a moment. For some reason he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch Loki’s belly, even with all the liberties he’d taken from Loki’s body. This feels different somehow.  Intimate. Noticing his hesitation, Loki rolls his eyes and places Thor’s hand directly on his abdomen. Thor caresses it in wonder. Yes, through the robes, he can definitely feel the telltale distention of Loki’s stomach, and Thor’s heart leaps in excitement, his dopey grin no doubt widening.

 

“Can you feel it yet?”

 

“I shouldn’t have my quickening for at least another week or two. Or, that is what Halldora says; we can’t say for certain. Information on Jotun runts is rather….sparse.  My pregnancy probably isn’t going to progress exactly as an Aesir’s would.”

 

“You must tell me at once when you do.”

 

“I’ll announce it like the coming of the Ragnarok. Hoorah! Thor’s seed stirs in my belly!”

 

“Don’t be cheeky, brother,” Thor chides warmly, still rubbing Loki’s stomach.  “I never got to feel my children by Groa.”

 

A tense silence falls over them both. Loki suddenly seems uncomfortable, so Thor changes the subject.

 

“How is your sickness?”

 

“Better, I think. If you can call not throwing up _so far today_ an improvement.”

 

“Technically it’s past midnight,” Thor says, “therefore you haven’t thrown up _at all_ today.”

 

“I’ve been saving it for when you got back. Or at least for when you are wearing something expensive.”

 

Thor grins. “And here I brought some gifts for you from Alfheim, you snot, and look at the abuse hurled at me in return!”

 

Loki perks up, spoiled little princeling he is.

 

“I’m carrying your child, you have to give me things.” Loki declares, sitting on the couch and extending his hand in a grabby motion. “It is law.”

 

Thor sits next to him and rifles through his rucksack. “I know of no such law.”

 

“You would if you were more studious in your youth.” Loki says. “Did you learn nothing from your tutors?”

 

“Right,” Thor laughs. “Clearly not. Here, this first.” he hands a package to Loki. It’s chocolates, but an exotic kind that is white rather than brown. The tip of an candied almond juts out from the centre of each one.

 

“They call them _Breasts of Freya,”_ Thor says, as Loki opens it. “See? They look like little tits.”

 

“Yes, very mature,” Loki says, but Thor can tell he’s amused. Loki picks one up and inspects it. “I can see why you’d like that.”

 

“It’s chocolate, they make white chocolate there.”

 

Loki pops it in his mouth whole and chews thoughtfully.

 

“Good?”

 

“Passable,” Loki says once he finishes chewing and swallows. He’s already reaching for another, and hums in pleasure as he eats it. Thor picks one out himself but Loki slaps his wrists.

 

“Ah, ah,” Loki says.

 

“I brought these all the way from Alfheim and you aren’t going to share?”

 

“Oh please, you probably saved three more boxes for yourself.”

 

“True, but you really should learn to share.”

 

Loki sets the box of candies on the table in front of him.  His voice drips sarcasm. “I’m _growing in the fullness of child,_ I require sustenance. Now, what else?"

 

“Ungrateful thing,” Thor shakes his head, pulling out the next parcel. It’s sweet smelling hair oils, the kind elves use to keep their hair long and silky, and other lotions and cremes to revitalize and brighten the skin. Not that Loki needs these things - he’s beautiful enough already - but Thor knows he likes to have the best of everything.

 

(The most _expensive_ of everything.)

 

This too, seems to please Loki, although an outside observer wouldn’t know it. He rubs a dot of creme into his inner wrist and sniffs it. It has a woodsy scent, like a meadow after the rain, with hints of cedar and sandalwood. Thor assumed this would be a safer bet than some of the floral lotions. He’d brought back the same set of cremes and lotions for Groa, scented with lilac, but knows better than to say so. Loki sniffs it a few more times in approval, and concedes that it is rather nice. That’s about as close to gratitude as Loki gets.

 

Thor had the next one wrapped - an cuff bracelet of fine elvish silverwork. It’s made to imitate lace, and it’s so intricate Thor thinks it must have been made under a magnifying glass. It’s in the style elvish men wear, so Thor hopes Loki will not think it too feminine and take offense.

 

Luckily, Loki doesn’t, and immediately slips it over his elegant wrist as soon as he finishes unwrapping it. He extends his arm to admire it at a distance.

 

“And how much was this?”

 

“Too much,” Thor says. “More than adequately expensive, for one of your tastes. I’m told it’s laced with magic to increase the wearer’s health, energy and vitality.”

 

“Yes, I can feel it,” Loki says. “The Elves are master enchanters.”

 

“Oh, that reminds me - did you know Queen Gwend’s crystal palace is held up with magic? That’s why their glass is so strong, it’s enchanted. I was nervous about accidentally inducing a storm and shattering their palace - you know how I get sometimes -  but they ensured me their glass can easily withstand a hurricane.”

 

Loki looks over. “You didn’t know that?”

 

“You did?”

 

“Everyone knows that, Thor,” Loki says loftily as he  inspects his cuff more up close. “I _told_ you, if you’d have only payed closer attention during your lessons…”

 

Thor can’t tell if Loki’s teasing him or not, but he chooses to let it go and reach inside for the last gift. The most precious gift. In all honesty, he’s not sure how well it will be received, but Thor makes a last-minute decision to give it to Loki and hope for the best. Thor pulls the box out of his bag.

 

“And this.”

 

Thor bites his lip nervously as Loki opens it.

 

Loki carefully pulls the item out of its custom box. It’s a rattle, with the same lattice-like silvery design as Loki’s cuff. Loki looks at it with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, and Thor immediately senses he’s just made a terrible mistake, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.

 

“It’s for, ah. Well you know.”

 

Loki turns the rattle over, and it makes a pleasant-sounding airy tinkle as it is jostled. Still, Loki says nothing.

 

“It’s enchanted too. It soothes an infant’s crying when it’s shaken, because I know how much you love hearing infants wail. Then again, I can’t really sense magic, so it’s possible they just told me that so they could charge me more. But it’s nice, isn’t it? And look, I had our initials engraved.” Thor turns it in Loki’s hand and points out the T and L interwoven on the handle. ”In secret, of course. I said it was a gift for a friend.”  Thor blabbers on, then pauses for Loki to say something. When Thor gets no response, he braces himself and says weakly, “Do you like it?”

 

At that, Loki promptly bursts into tears.

 

“Loki?!”  He had been _fine_ five seconds ago!

 

“It’s the hormones!” Loki explains in between sobs. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Fuck.”

 

“.....I’m…...sorry?” Thor offers, bewildered.

 

“No, don’t be. I don’t want your fucking pity.  It’s nothing.” Loki scrubs down his face and calms himself somewhat. “I get like this sometimes. I can’t help it. I cry like a woman at every little thing. It’s pathetic.”

 

“.....Alright…..”

 

“I’m not made of glass!” Loki barks. “And this,” he holds up the rattle, “Is a nothing but sentimental nonsense. I can’t believe you’d think this was a good idea! What if someone put two and two together? Hmmm? Fuel more rumors about us?”

 

“Yes,” Thor says. “You’re right.”

 

“And don’t be so patronizing!”

 

“What? I’m agreeing with you!”

 

“Ugh!” Loki mops at his face, embarrassed. “This is so _stupid.”_

 

Thor sits there awkwardly, deciding it best to not say anything at all. He waits as Loki settles down, and wonders whether he meant the rattle, the mood swings, or their entire predicament.

 

“I’m not weak,” Loki states after his voice is somewhat back to normal.

 

“I know you aren’t.” Thor says.

 

“I’m not weak.” Loki repeats, more to himself. He rolls the rattle in his fingers.

 

Again, they fall into silence. Thor is afraid to do anything now, in case he gets himself slapped. If he reaches for Loki, Loki will snarl at Thor’s coddling. If he doesn’t, Loki will think him uncaring. Thor can’t remember Groa being like this when she was pregnant. Maybe she was simply better at hiding it. Or maybe Loki is an outlier on the scale of emotionality. Thor leans towards the latter.

 

“Enough about that,” Loki says at length, and flippantly tosses the rattle on the table alongside all the other gifts, as if to distance himself from what had just happened. He sits back and crosses his arms, thus officially closing the matter.

 

Thor ducks his head. Loki’s never been the type to thank him for gifts, exactly; but Thor had hoped that just this once, he’d be met with a _little_ gratitude. He’d put a lot of thought into choosing them…...how was he supposed to know the rattle would make Loki cry? This isn’t exactly the reunion he’d pictured in his head during his long nights alone in Alfheim.

 

Thor is about to have a full-on pout when he finds himself being kissed. 

 

Loki dives right into it, kissing him long and deep, and cupping Thor’s neck to keep him close. His lips are soft and welcoming, and they part obligingly to let Thor’s tongue in. It feels hot, and wet, and _stars,_ Thor has missed this. Missed Loki. Thor returns his kiss gratefully, and quickly forgets how slighted he felt mere seconds ago.

 

Loki pulls away abruptly and stands before Thor. Thor blinks, dazed by Loki’s honeysweet kiss. He tries to get up, but Loki halts him with a few fingertips to his chest.

 

“You want to see?” Loki says huskily, one hand on his tummy, although the answer is surely obvious to him.

 

Thor can only nod dumbly in agreement. It’s almost worrisome, how Loki can bewitch him with just a few words. Loki might still be burdened by the torque, but he is not without some magic.

 

Loki seems to hesitate for a moment, pursing his lips slightly, but he gets over it quickly enough and slips his leggings past his hips to let them pool at his feet. Loki steps out of them and kicks them out of the way. He pulls his robe off next, until he’s left wearing nothing but a light, white shift that hangs down to his thighs.  He undoes his braid next, knowing full well that Thor loves the look and feel of Loki’s hair when it’s loose. Thor itches to reach out and touch, his fingers twitching in anticipation, but it is sweeter to watch Loki do this on his own.

 

Finally, Loki pulls the shift over his head, leaving him nude. He flushes, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable, although Thor sees no reason why he should be. He’s as beautiful as ever, perhaps more so, now that his flat belly has rounded with child.  He’s still long and lean, but there’s a softness to him now that wasn’t there before: his ribs don’t jut out quite so much, and his hip bones aren’t as sharp. His chest is as flat as ever, but Thor swears his nipples have darkened. His masculine sex lies limply at the juncture of his legs. Thor will remedy that shortly.                                                                                                                                                     

Thor guides Loki closer by the hand, until his tummy is right at face level. He nuzzles it, relishing both the feeling of Loki’s smooth skin against his stubbly cheek and the knowledge of what he’s nurturing inside.

 

“Hello baby,” Thor coos against Loki’s stomach, while looking up at Loki with a crooked grin. “I think you’ve made your carrier shy.”

 

He laughs at the good natured-punch to the shoulder Loki throws at him, but then his face becomes serious.

 

“You look beautiful.” Thor says earnestly. “You do.”

 

Thor grips Loki’s flaccid cock and gives it a few slow, experimental tugs, feeling it awaken under his palm. He lifts it aside and leans forwards to swipe his tongue against Loki’s slit. Loki bucks, in pleasure and in surprise, his hands falling to Thor’s shoulders to keep himself steady.

 

Thor inhales the sweet, musky smell of him, the taste Thor loves best. Their position isn’t the best for this, but Thor manages to stroke his tongue along the inside of Loki’s lips and press featherlight kisses to the flesh inside. Loki’s cock is soon hard and bucking into Thor’s fist, and while Thor would love to lick Loki until he comes on his tongue again and again, Thor hasn’t been laid since he’s seen Loki last, and he’s desperately hot for a good fuck.

 

In one smooth motion, Thor has Loki by the backs of his thighs. Loki scrambles to wrap his hands around the back of Thor’s neck to keep himself from being dropped, but Thor has him tight. Thor claims a kiss as he carries him towards the bed, and lays him down over the edge, so that Loki’s legs are hanging down off the side.

 

“Ah brother,” Thor groans at the sight of Loki laid out like a banquet. “I have missed you.”

 

He sinks down between Loki’s spread legs and quickly resumes his ministrations, pumping Loki’s cock and swirling his tongue along the opening of Loki’s cunt, before thrusting it inside to taste.

 

Loki whimpers, grinding back down on Thor’s face helplessly and winding his fingers in Thor’s hair so that Thor is practically smothered in Loki’s wetness.

 

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear,” Loki pants, pulling Thor up and kicking him on his shoulder with his heel. “Come _on._ ”

 

Thor needs no further prompting. He near rips off his tunic and breeches in a mad scramble to free himself, his cock already hard and dripping. The period of abstinence has made him so, so hot; he’s wild, like a feral dog - out of control, rough and greedy. As soon as he’s naked, Thor sinks into Loki’s cunt, roaring in sweet pleasure. Standing over Loki’s prone form gives him the leverage to fuck deep, and Thor immediately sets a brutal pace, gripping Loki’s thighs hard and slamming the bed frame into the wall with his every thrust. Loki is so warm and wet around his cock; tighter than usual after their long separation, and _ah,_ Thor needed this.

 

Loki’s eyes roll into his skull as he’s fucked, crying out as Thor rubs up against the sensitive front wall of his cunt and jerking his cock in time to Thor’s mad rhythm. His hair is a glorious mess around his head, some sticking to the sweat on his brow. So wanton and beautiful. Thor burns the image into his brain, so that he can use the memory warm himself when next they are apart.

 

“Ah, fuck me,” Loki says, desperately rutting his hips to meet Thor’s cock. By his frantic, frenzied movements, Thor can tell he’s close. Thor knocks away Loki’s hand so he can bring Loki to orgasm himself, and with a few sharp thrusts, Loki is coming, shooting hot spurts of semen across his belly, his head thrown back in bliss. He cries out and spasms violently, and Thor fucks him through it so that  it’s as pleasurable for him as possible. Watching Loki come undone, especially while impaled on cock, is Thor’s greatest pleasure. His sweet, beautiful, aristocratic brother. Only Thor gets to see him like this.

 

With that accomplished, Thor focuses on achieving his own peak. He’d been ready to fire like a missile almost as soon as he’d entered Loki, but he’d held off until at least he could get Loki off. But now, he can’t hold back the tide any longer. The sight of Loki climaxing always tips him over the edge, and he’s close, he’s so close -

 

With the heel of his foot Loki kicks Thor in the chest _hard,_ and Thor stumbles backwards, his cock slipping out. He’s nearly winded; sometimes he forgets how strong Loki is.

 

Thor roars in frustration and at the sudden lack of friction around his cock, but his protests die when Loki slips down off the bed to his knees, taking Thor’s cock shamelessly down his throat in one swift, smooth move.

 

Thor makes a weird gurgling noise he isn’t proud of, but _ah,_ the sudden switch makes his balls tighten. Loki’s mouth is just as sweet and wet as his cunt, but slightly different in the way that there’s more of a sucking sensation instead of an overall tight clutch. He takes Thor’s girth like a seasoned whore, using one hand to grip the parts he can’t take into his mouth and perhaps control Thor’s wild bucking somewhat. Thor can’t last long anyways; it only takes a few seconds before he’s coming down Loki’s throat.

 

“Oh, Brother,” Thor moans, fisting Loki’s beautiful silky hair to keep him in place. “That’s it, good, take it darling, _ah.”_

 

He pumps a few more times into Loki’s throat, until his seed is spent and Loki begins to gag, unable to swallow it all at once. Loki sits on his heels and coughs, then wipes away at the spunk dripping from his chin with the back of his hand. To his credit, he doesn’t complain, and Thor immediately pulls him up to kiss him on that dirty, clever mouth of his. Loki’s eyes are streaming after being choked, but he sinks into the kiss nonetheless, and Thor growls his pleasure

 

They soon collapse on the bed, both panting with exhaustion. Thor lies on his back and opens his arms to encourage Loki to settle on Thor’s stomach, which he does. In the wake of his orgasm, Loki is uncharacteristically pliant, and Thor can’t help but advantage of it.

 

They kiss lazily, enjoying each other’s embrace in the afterglow of orgasm. Loki’s spunk is sticky between their abdomens, but he makes no move to clean himself - not that Thor would want to let him up anyway. If they were back in Thor’s apartments, however, he’d carry Loki to his bath for a nice, cool soak. He’d have Loki shampoo his hair, and in return, he’d massage sweet oils into Loki’s skin. By the end, they’d both be hard they’d wind up fucking in the bath and have to wash themselves all over again. A man can dream….

 

Loki undulates against Thor gently, tucking his head into Thor’s neck and squirming against him, as though he were trying to bury himself in Thor’s body. It doesn’t feel sexual, not really; although Thor is very mindful of Loki’s come between them. It’s more like an aggressive, restless snuggling. Now that Thor thinks on it, Loki’s been doing this ever since he got pregnant. Thor smirks, then audibly snickers as Loki rubs against a ticklish spot on his ribs. 

 

“Loki,” he chuckles, “Be at peace, stars above!”

 

Loki perks his head up, “I’m……” He frowns. “What? I’m not doing anything.”

 

“You’re doing that squirmy thing. What, are you not exhausted? Perhaps I did not fuck you hard enough…..”

 

“Sorry.” Loki says, although he looks rather perturbed at himself.  “I’ll stop now.”

 

“No, I’m teasing you. I don’t mind, I just want to know why.”

 

Loki purses his lips. “You’re going to laugh.”

 

Thor’s eyebrows fly up in mock-offense. “I would never!”

 

“You will because it’s stupid.”

 

“I won’t. I promise I won’t.” Thor kisses his nose. “Tell me.”

 

Loki exhales, and his eyes narrow slightly as if he’s trying to think up a good lie, but can’t. “I just feel it’s important that you….smell like me.”

 

Thor’s face splits into a wide grin. “Smell like you?”

 

“See!” Loki exclaims, thwacking Thor’s face with a throw pillow. “I knew you’d laugh at me.”

 

“I’m not!” Thor exclaims, shielding his face with his forearms. “I’m not. See? I’m as solemn as a undertaker.”

 

Loki huffs. “It must be a Jotun instinct, to mark one’s mate with one’s scent. My sense of smell has gone haywire since I got with child. You see what you’ve reduced me to? A sobbing, vomiting, temperamental mess, running on animalistic urges, rubbing myself all over you like a cat in heat. It’s humiliating.” Loki groans. “I’m not even halfway through yet. I have months to go, and I’m only going to get fatter.”

 

“You’re not fat, you’re growing in the-”

 

Loki thwacks him again, and Thor ends up wrestling playfully with him and prying any pillows away from Loki’s grasp. Eventually, he manages to reverse their positions, and settles over Loki while pinning his wrists down on either side of his head.

 

“You can nuzzle me, I don’t mind,” Thor says. “I like it. I want to smell like you.”

 

Thor nestles into Loki’s neck, imitating the gesture, and Loki moans. He’s especially sensitive under the torque. Thor worms his hand underneath the metal, so that it isn’t pressing up against Loki’s skin. He thinks this must relieve some of the strain of bearing it, and Loki sighs in appreciation.  

 

Thor grins. “Now you smell like me too.”

 

Loki glares up at him, but his pupils are blown wide in interest. Thor knees apart Loki’s legs to lie between them. He’s already starting to get hard again.

 

“Do you like that?” Thor rubs his cheek against Loki’s neck. “You want my scent all over you?”

 

“I already reek of you,” Loki says, but gasps as Thor begins to grind against him.

 

“I think you do,” Thor says lowly. “I think you want my smell all over you so that everyone will know you’re _mine,”_ Thor thrusts lazily against the juncture of Loki’s legs, “That the child you carry is _mine,_ and that no one else can claim you.”

 

“You think - ah! - rather highly of yourself.”

 

“You were smelling me earlier, weren’t you?” Thor rubs Loki’s neck and mouths at his jawline. “You wanted to make sure I was good while I was away?”

 

Loki groans. ”Far be it from me to have any say in whom you choose to bed.”

 

“Tsk tsk, a poorly crafted lie, coming from you,” Thor smirks. “I expected better.”

 

Thor gives Loki no time to respond, as he slips his cock back into the slick warm heat of Loki’s cunt, rocking him forward a few inches. Loki’s mouth opens into a pant and Thor kisses him sloppily, thrusting in and out at a lazy pace. He strokes Loki’s thighs on every downstroke, making Loki shudder and cling to him harder.

 

“I didn’t,” Thor says. “I couldn’t, because there isn’t anyone else, Loki. I don't want anyone else. Only you.”

 

“Ugh,” Loki groans, squirming on Thor’s cock. Thor can tell he’s about to make some snide comment, as he always does when Thor gets too _sentimental,_ so Thor silences him with a kiss.

 

“Only you, Loki, sweetheart, you hear me?” Thor growls into Loki’s ear. “Only you, forever.”

 

It feels wet and sweaty and sticky, their previous fuck having already taken the edge off their lust. Nonetheless, Thor finds himself amenable to their leisurely rhythm, especially since Loki has buried his face in Thor’s neck and is pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to the skin he finds there. Thor can only groan and thrust harder and deeper, grinding his cock inside Loki’s cunt, stuffing him deep just the way he knows Loki likes. He’s rewarded with a beautiful sob of pleasure, and Loki comes as soon as Thor takes one of his pink, peaked nipples in his mouth.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Loki groans, tightening his legs around Thor’s waist to keep him exactly where he needs him. He spasms underneath Thor, his eyebrows knotted together and his mouth slack.

 

Thor presses his forehead against Loki’s so that their breath intermingles as one. Thor feels his own orgasm building in the base of his spine, and as soon as Loki meets his gaze, Thor comes.

 

***

 

Thor is humming like a contented jungle cat as he lays at Loki’s side. He feels so loose and mellow, as though his body were made of melting butter. He knows he’ll have to go back to his own bedchambers, but he’s putting it off for as long as possible. Besides, he has to let the _Loki-stink_ seep into his pores, in case he meets a frisky Jotun who might fancy a go. He grins at the mental image. Such strange creatures! The inner workings of their physiology are still rather mysterious…..

 

“How will our child be fed?” Thor asks casually, as if he hadn’t been wondering about it since that night back in Alfheim.

 

“I…...don’t know.” Loki says. “Milk, I suppose.”

 

“Whose milk? Yours?” Thor looks down at Loki’s flat chest.

 

“A nursemaid will be appointed, probably.”

 

 Thor starts. “Do you do that? Make milk?  I mean, you have nipples.”

 

Loki’s eyes narrow. “So do you.”

 

“Yes, but - “  _You’re part female,_ Thor almost says, but thinks better of it. “Never mind. I was just curious.”

 

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” Loki says blankly, looking up at the ceiling.

 

“You mean you don’t know? How could you _not know_?"

 

“It’s not like I got _the talk,_ Thor!” Loki snaps. "Of course I don't know. I don't know _anything_ about my body anymore."

 

"Well, have you tried looking in the library?”

 

"The library! Of _course!_ Thank you, Thor, for that _brilliant, insightful_ suggestion. Why didn't I think of that?! I will check the library! That place where all the knowledge is kept! Oh ho ho! Bravo, brother."

 

"Alright, I see your point," Thor grumbles. "And?"

 

"And to answer your question, no, I can’t find a shred of information about it. I’ve scoured every tome on Jotunheim and the Frost Giants that I could find. They’re so frustratingly _private_ about this sort of thing.”

 

He rests his hands over his stomach protectively, and Thor is hit by a pang of guilt for having convinced Loki to follow through with the pregnancy. It’s not just the social stigma he has to face; this is his _body_ going through all these strange, unpleasant changes. Thor can’t imagine what that must be like, especially since they know so little about what Loki is. This is uncharted territory, but it’s Loki who has taken on the brunt of the risk. And they both know it.

 

“Are you afraid?”

 

“Of course I’m afraid.” Loki says softly. “Aren’t you?”

 

“No,” Thor shifts slightly, “Nervous, perhaps; but not afraid.”

 

“I really don’t see why you should be,” Loki drawls, “Everyone already loves you. It’s me who’s going to take the hit.” He waggles his eyebrows mischieviously. “We’re about to cause quite the little scandal.”

 

“I think you overestimate how much people will care,” Thor counters.  “It might be something of a shock, at first, but it’ll blow over just as quickly, once some other novel bit of gossip begins to make the rounds.”

 

“If you say so,” Loki says, but he hardly sounds convinced.

 

“I’ll tell Odin tomorrow.” Saying this aloud makes it seem more final. “I’ll tell him tomorrow, and it’ll be done. There. It’s set.”

 

Thor brings Loki’s hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it. He grins to meet Loki’s frown, exuding a confidence that doesn’t quite reach his innermost core.

  
What’s the worst that could happen, really?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rather ominous last line, eh
> 
> Hope the dialogue's ok, I struggle with it a lot, but I thought it wasn't too bad this chapter.
> 
> Cheers! 
> 
> xoxoxo
> 
> teresa-dances-in-sequins.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya liked! 
> 
> feedback is like sweet sweet nectar *sobs* Kindly don't hate on Groa just cos she's Thor's wife. She'll have her own happy ending. It's thor and loki I wanna fuck with.
> 
> my tumblr: teresa-dances-in-sequins.tumblr.com 
> 
> If you wanna reblog the artwork, please do so from [here](http://teresa-dances-in-sequins.tumblr.com/post/84232644777/i-will-love-you-till-the-end-of-time-i-need-to) :)


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